


The flame in you

by Nemuna



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Cuddling, Derek Hale is Bad at Feelings, Derek is 20, Eventual Smut, Fluff and Angst, Graphic Description of Corpses, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Late 1800s AU, M/M, Making Out, Master/Servant, Minor Character Death, Murder, Mutual Pining, Mystery, Original Character(s), POV Stiles Stilinski, Peter is a dick, Physical Abuse, Pining, Power Dynamics, Scenting, Size Difference, Slow Burn, Stiles is 18, Stiles/Scott bff shenanigans, Strangers to Lovers, Violence, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-16
Updated: 2019-10-18
Packaged: 2019-11-18 21:10:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 16
Words: 42,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18126524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nemuna/pseuds/Nemuna
Summary: The whole Hale family, except Peter, had been sleeping inside, now probably dead in their beds. Stiles could only hope they’d died of the smoke before the flames got to them.He jumped in shock as the heavy front door was suddenly kicked down and a bulky figure of a man shadowed the flames roaring inside."Holy shit." Stiles let out under his breath.“Derek!”-(Stiles finds himself taking care of Derek when the man moves in with Peter Hale, his uncle and Stiles' master, after the Hale manor mysteriously burns down, taking the lives of his whole family with it. Though it soon looks like Derek is the one taking care of Stiles and not the other way around.)-





	1. In Flames

**Author's Note:**

> This story takes place in an alternate universe that's based on the late 1800s. I have not tried to make this totally historically accurate so forgive me! 
> 
> Tags will be updated with the coming chapters as I am still in the process of writing this.
> 
> (I apologize for any mistakes in my wording or sentence structure, i am not a native speaker)

”Shit!” Stiles cursed under his breath. A sudden loud barking coming from outside startled him into dropping a basket full of laundry right onto his left foot. The wicker basket bounced off his shoe and fell onto its side, spilling off-white linens onto the hardwood floor of the candlelit hallway. Stiles bent down to pick the basket and linens off of the floor. As he straightened up he held the basket against his hip with one hand and brushed a strand of hair out of his face letting out a deep sigh.

It was late into the night and Stiles was still doing the chores his mother hadn’t gotten to during the day. Her memory was getting worse day by day and she usually forgot to do several things, causing the master of the house, Peter Hale, to punish her, though Stiles kept a watchful eye and could usually take care of the chores before the master noticed.

Being the curious boy he is, Stiles quickly went to put the linens to the downstairs laundry room to be washed later and hurried outside to see what had the guard dogs barking in the middle of the night. The sudden change in temperature as Stiles stepped outside had him draw in a sharp breath. He immediately regretted not grabbing a jacket. They were well into winter and the weather showed it.

Some of the house’s residents seemed to be as curious as Stiles, as about a dozen others had gathered outside and were staring at the sky above the trees in the direction of the farm’s main house with various levels of curiosity and horror on their faces. Snow crunched under Stiles’ thin shoes as he approached the small crowd of mostly servants who had been lured away from their chores and out of their beds by the commotion. It was freezing cold and the wind easily penetrated the thin cotton button up shirt Stiles had on but he didn’t pay any attention to his shivering, the horrifically mesmerizing sight taking all his focus.

Smoke and flames rose above the trees. The main house was in flames.

The manor’s door slammed open behind them and Peter Hale stomped out onto the porch, a stern look on his face, and Noah Stilinski, Stiles’ father and head of security, at his heel. He was wearing plain cotton pants which he wore to bed and was tying the belt of a long thick velvet dressing gown in a knot around his middle.

“You!” Peter pointed at a tall man Stiles recognized as Boyd, who worked in the stables. “Go fetch the fire brigade here. Now!” Peter’s voice was a bit growly from sleep but penetrated through the harsh wind. Boyd nodded and hurried off.

Peter and Noah approached the crowd.

“Get us horses! Hurry!” Noah told the other two stable boys, Scott and Isaac, who hurried off after sharing a glance. Stiles knew the boys well as they all shared a room.

“Couldn’t this wait until morning? Goddammit.” Peter growled out his frustrations, walking into the direction of the flames.

 _I don’t think fires care about clocks_ , Stiles thought to himself.

The rest of the crowd, including Stiles, still hadn’t moved a muscle, looking at each other not knowing what to do.

Soon the stable boys were back with unsaddled horses for Peter and Noah, who immediately got on and started off along the road through the trees. Stiles blinked before deciding to run after them. He could hear some of the others following him and turned his gaze to see Scott running beside him.

"This is insane!" Scott huffed out. Stiles just raised his brows in agreement.

Their breaths came out in puffs of white steam as they ran, the cold prickling at their skin and reddening their cheeks. The main house wasn’t that far and with the adrenaline coursing through Stiles’ veins it seemed like barely a minute before they reached the opening around the house. Stiles and Scott stopped a bit further back to observe the commotion, not knowing if they could be of any help.

Other than the roar of the flames it was eerily quiet. It didn’t sound like anyone was alive inside and only a few servants had made it out. It was difficult to look at, not only because of the horrific implications of the sight, but also because the heat was so intense it hurt Stiles’ face and dried his eyes. The flames covered almost every visible surface and were pushing out the windows on the upper levels. The whole Hale family, except Peter, had been sleeping inside, now probably dead in their beds. Stiles could only hope they’d died of the smoke before the flames got to them.

"Do you think anyone's alive?" Scott questioned.

Stiles turned to look at him with is brows raised. "Are you looking at the same thing as me? There's no way anyone is alive in there..." he sighed.

Peter stood as close as he could bare, nervously wringing the loose ends of his belt around his hands, shifting his weight between his feet.

A few moments passed as they stood there helpless, entertaining the idea of entering the burning house to look for survivors. That idea was scrapped quickly though. There was no way anyone could go in and come back alive.

“What the hell happened?” Stiles questioned Scott, though he didn’t think the other had much more idea than he himself had.

“Isaac and I just woke up to the dogs barking and came out to see the flames.” Scott’s face twisted into a sorrowful grimace. “I don’t know how the night watch didn’t see the fire before it got this bad…”

“Where are the night watch anyway? “ Stiles scanned the sparse crowd of people that had gathered to watch.

Both boys jumped in shock as the heavy front door was suddenly kicked down and a bulky figure of a man shadowed the flames roaring inside. He was carrying what appeared to be the body of a woman in his arms, his chest heaving with heavy breaths.

"Holy shit." Stiles let out under his breath.

“Derek!” Peter sighed in relief.

Derek staggered down the stairs as Peter rushed towards them, grabbing the woman gently from his arms, bringing her further away from the house, and laying her down on a blanket a servant had placed on the snow.

“Laura, darling, can you hear me?” Peter questioned desperately as he kneeled next to her. She didn’t appear to be breathing. Her face and arms were bloody and badly burned, her clothing charred and ripped.

She was dead.

Peter soon noticed the state of her and sat back on his knees, wiping his hair back in frustration. He hung his head so Stiles couldn't see properly but he assumed the man was crying.

A shaken Derek was wrapped in a blanket by Noah. His expression was unreadable. His arms and hands were badly burnt, and he was covered in soot and ash. The once blue shirt he was wearing had holes burned in it. Noah was trying to talk to him, asking if anyone else was alive but he just shook his head slowly, his eyes unfocused, still breathing heavily.

Stiles didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know what to think. He hadn’t really ever met the other Hales, only ever serving under Peter in his separate manor. Apparently there had been a disagreement in the family which led to Peter being shut out of the family and given the job of managing the stables, to avoid further conflict, but no one really knew what Peter had actually done. Peter wasn’t a great master, he was cruel in his words and punished the servants mostly for his own amusement but one couldn't help but feel bad for the man. Stiles had heard from others, who had worked in the main house, that the other Hales were much nicer, some even describing them as sweet and giving.

Seeing the woman lying dead on the ground had shivers running down Stiles’ spine.

The only other Hale aside from Peter that Stiles had heard complaints about was Derek. People said that he was cold and rude, and always glared at everyone, mostly staying in his own bedroom. Stiles had never met or even seen Derek before, but seeing him carry the body of his sister out of a burning building made Stiles second-guess the other’s interpretation of the man’s character. Of course he would act different with his own family, but it still meant that he couldn’t be completely rotten inside.

Now looking at Derek, he seemed completely shaken. He looked so young and lost. He looked like a boy who had just lost his whole family.

“Stiles!” Noah called out to his son. Stiles glanced over at Scott briefly before approaching his father and Derek.

“Take Derek inside, will you? Get him cleaned up. We’ll handle this.” Noah had his hand gently on Derek’s shoulder and used his grip to push the taller boy towards his son. "Scott you come with me." He went over to Peter, who was still kneeling next to the body of his niece with Scott in tow.  

Stiles shot an awkward little smile toward Derek but he didn’t react to it, his eyes still unfocused staring at the snow. Stiles fell into step a few feet from Derek at his side as they started a fairly slow walk along the dark, snow covered cobblestone road through the trees back towards the other house.

After a minute of walking the adrenaline that had been keeping Stiles warm was dissolving quickly and he started shivering. He crossed his arms over his torso and walked slumped over to gather as much warmth as possible. The wind was picking up and Stiles constantly had to push his hair out of his face to see where they were going. Derek was silent beside him, aside from coughing now and then, clutching onto the thick grey blanket around his shoulders.

Derek’s glazed over gaze shifted to the smaller boy walking beside him. Derek could see he was shivering violently, the shirt and slacks the boy was wearing blown against his skin by the freezing wind, his face and fingers getting red from the cold. Without thinking about it too much Derek shifted the blanket off of his shoulders and silently laid it across Stiles’, wrapping it around his front gently.

Stiles slowed his steps when he felt the warm weight of the blanket and looked at Derek, baffled. The taller man resumed his pace and Stiles had to take a few hurried steps to keep up with him after he got over his shock.

“Thanks.” Stiles said gently but only received a quiet grunt in reply.

As they walked the sound of the flames was growing quieter and the sound of their steps louder. Stiles was uncomfortable with the silence, being used to blabbering constantly, but decided to stay quiet to give Derek space.

Derek was kind of shocked how calm he was. Maybe he hadn’t yet processed the situation. Obviously losing basically your entire family is a pretty huge thing to grasp and he dreaded the moment all this really registered in his brain.

About halfway they heard the approach of a wagon and the stomp of hooves on snow, and soon enough the fire brigade with Boyd and Isaac in tow were hurrying past them. Stiles looked back as they passed and offered a small smile for his friends. Derek didn’t even lift his eyes from the ground.

When they reached the manor Stiles held the door open with a shaky hand to let Derek inside and led him upstairs to where all the bedrooms were. The house fell into silence as the door banged closed, the only sound being the clatter of Stiles’ steps on the hardwood floor. Derek’s steps were silent and a glance down revealed he wasn’t wearing any shoes. Stiles made a mental note to find some for him in the morning.

Stiles chose the closest guestroom he knew was made up and held the door open as Derek went inside the dark room and sat on the edge of the large bed, his weight making him sink into the soft mattress. Stiles gathered the blanket from his shoulders and folded it before placing it on the dresser by the door. He went to light the candle on the bedside table to bring a bit of light. He dug his pockets for matches and popped the box open. As he went to strike the match however, a deep silent voice stopped him.

“Don’t.”

Stiles was startled and snapped his gaze to the man sitting beside him, making eye contact with him for the first time. There was something in his eyes that had Stiles’ mind going blank. There was such strength behind the green eyes, so much hurt, and something else that he couldn't quite place.

Stiles put the matches away and straightened up, still holding Derek’s gaze, unable to look away. “Oh, yeah. Sorry.” Stiles’ blabbering ways were pushing through, “Fire. I get it. It’s okay.” He nodded, finally breaking eye contact in favor of glancing down at his shoes. He brought his gaze back up to Derek’s face and, though the room was dark, there was enough light coming from the hallway for Stiles to see how dirty Derek really was. “I’ll get some water and clean clothes for you.” He stated. Derek just nodded.

Stiles went back to the hallway to grab clothes from Peter’s room nearby for Derek to wear. When he came back Derek hadn’t moved an inch so Stiles just laid the clothes down on the bed next to him and went to the bathroom to grab a basin, towels, a water pitcher and bandages, and placed them on the bedside table. He poured some water into the basin and wet a towel in it.

“Do you want me to help you, or?” Stiles asked as he was wringing out the excess water. Derek glanced at him and in response pulled his shirt off exposing even more dirtied skin. Even sitting down, relaxed, his muscles were prominent and Stiles took a nervous breath averting his gaze.

“Alright…” Stiles nodded lightly. He approached the silent man and started gently rubbing the soot and blood off of Derek’s shoulders and neck. His muscles were tight around that area, nervous and unable to relax. Stiles slowly moved onto his arms and hands, which he was careful with, as they were the most burnt and bloody. The black soot was sticky and difficult to get rid of, but Stiles did his best.

When Derek’s torso and arms were mostly clean Stiles grabbed another towel, placing the now dirty one aside, to clean Derek’s face. Stiles had to stand between his knees to reach his face properly. Stiles held his face in place with a hand on his strong jaw, while he rubbed at the dirt on his cheeks and nose. Derek met Stiles’ gaze at one point, but they both quickly averted their eyes. There were still some streaks of stubborn dirt stuck on Derek’s cheek but Stiles didn’t want to keep rubbing at the poor man’s face. He could feel how uncomfortable the other was with him standing so close so he decided to give the man some mercy. A little dirt wouldn’t kill him.

Stiles grabbed the roll of bandage next and lifted Derek's right arm to wrap the bandage around his forearm up to and around his thick fingers, tucking the ends underneath to keep it from unraveling. He repeated the same motions on the other arm. Derek's skin felt warm under Stiles' still freezing fingers and Derek seemed to relax under his touch.

"I'm not a doctor, so I don't know what else to do, sorry." Stiles apologized as he rolled the rest of the bandage back onto itself and stuffed it into his pocket.

"It'll heal, it's fine." Derek told him. Stiles agreed that it would heal, but without proper medical care, the resulting scars wouldn't be pretty. He chose to keep his worries to himself. Derek had enough to worry about already. It could wait until morning, at least.

Stiles stepped back and grabbed the dirty towels and basin to take back to the bathroom. He put the dirty towels into a hamper and placed the basin and pitcher back onto their spot on the counter next to the sink after pouring the water out. He could hear some shuffling from the bedroom and assumed Derek was changing into the clean clothes Stiles had provided. He busied himself with filling up a glass of water to let the other man finish changing before going back.

Derek was indeed changed and looking much better than he did before. His hair was still a mess, though he had pushed it back and out of his face. The long-sleeved plain shirt clung to his chest and arms a bit too tightly, but that was to be expected as the clothes were tailored in Peter’s measurements. He was standing, in the process of buttoning up loose comfortable pants, and Stiles noticed now how slight their height difference was. Derek was taller for sure, but only by a few inches. Their silhouettes couldn’t be more different however; Stiles was skinny but toned from work, with thin wrists and skinny fingers, Derek thick and muscular all over; his hands looked like they could break Stiles’ arms like twigs, but were used so gently to hand the ripped and burnt clothes to stiles, for him to place in the hamper along with the towels.

“Do you need anything else?” Stiles asked as he accepted the torn clothes and handed the glass over. Derek gulped the whole thing down in a few seconds to soothe his dry throat, and sat back down on the bed. He didn’t answer.

“Uhm... Someone will be over in the morning to bring you a change of clothes.” Stiles tried to finish the 'conversation' awkwardly, ready to leave.

Derek’s gaze hardened a bit, still focused on the floor. “You.” His voice was strained and quiet.

“Sorry?” Stiles halted in his movements as he was picking up the hamper to take to the laundry room.

Derek lifted his gaze to Stiles’. “You.” He said louder this time.

Stiles lifted his eyebrows in surprise. “Me? Okay, then _I_ will bring you clothes in the morning?”

Derek nodded and lowered his gaze back down. He looked almost shy.

“Okay.” Stiles nodded with a gentle smile. He left the room quietly and heard the sheets shuffling as he closed the door.

He hurried downstairs with the laundry hamper. He still hadn’t finished washing the sheets his mother was supposed to have finished with before nightfall and now he had even more things to wash. He sighed as he caught sight of the clock in the hallway: quarter past three in the morning. It was going to be a long night, though he supposed it would be for everyone.

As he got to the hallway leading to the servants’ quarters and utility rooms he heard the front door opening and what he thought was Peter Hale’s voice along with his father's. He couldn’t make out any words but they were deep in conversation.

Stiles closed the laundry room door behind him after lighting a few candles and got to work on the laundry.

By the time he got to the male servants’ room his rickety bed was in he didn’t dare to look at a clock.

The room wasn’t too big, it had four beds, for Boyd, Isaac, Scott and himself. The beds were separated with curtains that were threadbare in places, but worked well enough to provide a bit of privacy. Scott and Isaac were already sleeping, judging from the light snoring and closed curtains. Boyd’s bed was still empty and Stiles wondered what he was doing. He went to his bed on the far left in a little alcove and closed the curtain. The others had argued with him about taking the alcove but he eventually won by being the only one out of the three who has to serve master Hale personally, and they eventually took pity on him. Though working in the stables and with the dogs was more physically taxing, being the one to receive the most of Peter Hale's rage and punishments was much worse.

He dug around the chest at the foot of his bed and changed into his pyjama shirt before climbing into bed under the covers. It took a while for him to fall asleep. The sight of the flames and Derek’s burnt hands seemed to be seared into the inside of his eyelids.


	2. Settling in

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I already had this chapter written when I published the first one and planned on uploading this next weekend but I couldn't hold back so here you go!

Stiles was woken up by the door to their room banging shut and a heavy body seemingly falling onto a bed. He rubbed his eyes as he got up to peek from behind the curtain and saw Boyd lying face down on his bed, his feet sticking over the edge, shoes dripping water onto the floor. Stiles opened the curtain a bit more before speaking.

“What time is it?” his voice was deep and scratchy from sleep.

“Almost six.” came a muffled reply.

“Is the fire out yet?”

“Still smouldering… Feels like I have a pound of ash in my lungs.” Boyd shuffled onto his back, coughing.

“You look like you probably do.” Stiles huffed out a laugh.

Boyd just grunted and slung an arm over his eyes.

“Just let me sleep.” he whined.

Stiles laughed a little more before shutting the curtain. He made his bed and got a clean pressed uniform, underwear and socks from the trunk before going to the bathroom across the hall to piss and quickly wash up. He rinsed his face, brushed his teeth and wiped his armpits and between his legs with a wet washcloth. That would have to do. Usually he bathed at night but for obvious reasons he’d skipped it last night.

After drying up he pulled the underwear and black slacks on quickly and buttoned up his white shirt, adjusting the cuffs to fit his slender wrists. He slipped his socks on and sat on a little stool to lace up his black leather shoes. They were pretty thin and flimsy from wear but served their purpose.

As he was looking in the mirror to check that his winged collar wasn’t crooked and that his hair wasn’t sticking up in weird places, he heard Isaac’s voice from behind the door, accompanied by a soft knock.

“Stiles, you there?”

“Yeah, just a second.” he replied to his own reflection. He had dark circles around his eyes from sleeping so little but it didn’t faze him. He didn’t get that much sleep most nights. He threw his dirty clothes into a hamper in the corner of the room and opened the door.

Isaac was standing there in his own pyjama holding a change of clothes in his arms, his hair sticking up and eyes sleepy.

“Thanks.”

Stiles turned to him as he was leaving when something popped into his head. “Oh, did you hear anything about what happened last night?” he asked, “Did they find anyone else alive?”

Isaac’s sleepy face scrunched into a slight frown. “No. No one. No one’s seen the night guards either. Some think that they might have ran into the manor to try and save the Hales but the fire wasn’t out yet when I went to bed so I don’t know if that’s what happened.”

Stiles frowned along with him. “Let’s hope they turn up.”

“Yeah.” Isaac shifted his weight and Stiles quickly realized that he was keeping the other boy from doing his business.

“I’ll try to find out more from the other maids, maybe they’ve heard something.”

Isaac smiled at him slightly and they nodded to each other before Isaac shut the door and Stiles started off down the hallway.

The housekeeper Josephine, who the maids working under her called Josie was in the large kitchen ordering the other staff around as usual. It seemed as though Stiles was the last to wake. The chef and his helper were busy getting breakfast ready and the maids in their uniforms, including Stiles’ mother Claudia, who gave him a tired smile which he returned in kind, were gathered around Josephine, who wore the same outfit but with a black ruffled pinafore instead of a white one like the others wore.

Stiles was the only male among the maids and he was glad he was given permission to not wear the maid uniform, though master Hale had threatened to make him wear the pinafore on several occasions. Master Hale joked a lot with guests who complained when Stiles was assigned to serve them, that with his girly face and slim figure he could just put on the uniform and nobody would question it, and several actually wanted to see him in it. In those situations Stiles was especially glad for his talent of wiggling out of unpleasant situations using his words.

“Stiles! There you are, finally!” Josephine croaked in her signature way and started listing off his duties as usual. It was as if nothing had changed, though the family they served were now mostly dead. It was kind of relieving. As Josephine was coming to the end of her list, that hadn’t changed in its contents for a long time, she got Stiles’ attention by saying: “Also! Young master Derek has specifically requested your service this morning.”

Though Stiles had agreed to it last night it still somehow surprised him to hear it.

All the maids dispersed to do their respective duties when they were excused by Josephine and Stiles headed to the storage closet where cleaned and pressed clothes were kept before being distributed to individual rooms. He searched around the shelves and racks of clothing until he’d gathered a whole outfit along with a pair of shoes he thought – mostly hoped – would fit the young master. The shoes he was the most uncertain about as he hadn’t really paid any particular attention to the man’s feet, unlike his build, which Stiles would admit he had ogled a bit.

He grabbed a clean towel as well before heading up.

He knocked on the door gently. “Excuse me, I’ve come to bring you clothes.” he called out in his usual service voice, which was a little higher than his normal speaking voice. “As requested.” He added as an afterthought.

“Come in.” came a low reply.

Stiles pushed the door open and gave his usual fake smile to Derek, who was sitting up in his bed, still under the covers reading a book. His hands were still wrapped in bandages, but there was no blood seeping through.

_That’s good_ , Stiles thought, _he isn’t bleeding anymore_.

He laid out the clothes on the dresser and laid the shoes down in front of it. Looking at the dresser he remembered he’d left the blanket on top of it last night, but now it wasn’t there anymore.

“I apologize if these don’t fit, I had to guess your size.”

He only got a slight grunt in reply.

Stiles straightened up and looked to the other. He noticed Derek still had a bit of soot on his face and offered to draw a bath, which Derek accepted with a nod, so Stiles went to the attached bathroom to open the tap and let the large bathtub fill up.

He came back to the bedroom and went to open the curtains in hopes of letting more light in but it was still early and fairly dark outside. Fortunately Derek had lit a candle to bring light so Stiles took the liberty to light the wall mounted ones as well, as they waited for the tub to fill.

“I’m Stiles by the way, I don’t think I told you my name yesterday” he smiled at the man who still hadn’t moved. Stiles put the blame for the man’s rudeness on yesterday’s happenings and chose to reserve judgement until later, though he could see why people had complained about the young master if this was how he always acted.

Stiles then suddenly noticed the blanket from yesterday bunched up on the bed.

“Were you cold during the night, young master?” he asked and glanced at the radiator placed under the window, wondering if servants were too busy to keep the boilers heated during the night.

“What?”

“No, I was just wondering if the temperature of the room was okay with you. I could request a change if you’d like?” Stiles had learned to not question the actions of Master Hale directly. Instead he preferred asking general, vaguer, questions since then he was less likely to anger the man and receive punishments.

“It’s fine.”

Stiles lowered his head in a nod and went to the bathroom to check on the bath. It was nearly full so he went to the cabinets and grabbed soap and a clean toothbrush and placed them on a silver tray on a small table within reach of the bath along with a towel. By the time he was done with that the tub was filled and he went to check the temperature; hot, but not burning.

“The bath is ready for you, young master.” Stiles told the other as he stepped into the doorway.

Without saying a word Derek went to get up and Stiles peeled the covers back to help him.

He gave the other privacy to bathe and told the young master that he was welcome to go to the dining room for breakfast when he was done.

After the bathroom door shut Stiles made the bed, carefully smoothing out all wrinkles from the sheets before going to his usual morning duties of cleaning and organizing the bedrooms, including master Hale’s, though thankfully the man himself was already gone, and bringing all laundry down to be washed.

When he was on his way to the laundry room with a wicker basket full of sheets he saw Derek emerging from his room, dressed in the clothes Stiles had provided, his hair still damp from the bath. The clothes seemed to fit almost perfectly, except the sleeves that were a bit tight. Stiles made a mental note to get a tailor to make the man some properly fitting clothes. All of Derek’s possessions had gone up in smoke, so he probably needed much more things than just clothes.

They shared a glance but Derek looked away almost immediately and hurried downstairs, presumably to the dining room.

Stiles made a detour to grab the towel and discarded clothes from Derek’s bathroom, this time making sure not to forget to take the blanket from the bed. To his pleasant surprise he found that the bath had been drained and the soap and toothbrush, along with everything else the man had probably used, were in their proper places. He smiled a little to himself.

He brought the laundry downstairs where his mother was sitting on a stool in front of a large wooden pail, with the sleeves of her uniform rolled up above her elbows, washing sheets and clothes in soapy water.

Stiles’ parents slept in a spare bedroom upstairs, courtesy of master Hale, who wanted his head of security to sleep on the same floor as him in case something were to happen, so he didn’t see his mother much outside of their overlapping duties and these random encounters. Stiles did make sure to check after her to see that she was doing her duties and was feeling okay, but she wasn’t much of a talker anymore, and Stiles wasn’t allowed to just sit around in his parents’ room idly.

“Good morning, mom. Did you sleep well?”

It took a little while for her to respond, but she smiled and nodded. “Oh, I slept very well, honey.”

That was her usual response.

His smile had a hint of sadness. “That’s good. I’m glad.”

He left the basket with the others already in the room and left. It was painful seeing his mother deteriorating before his eyes, but he tried his best to be positive in front of her.

Stiles went to the kitchen to see if he could grab some breakfast for himself. He’d asked his mother if he should bring some for her as well, but she told him she’d already eaten. He didn’t know if he trusted her though, with her memory being what it is.

When he got to the kitchen, where a maid called Erica was washing pots and pans in the sink,  the door leading from the kitchen to the dining room was open and he could see master Hale and Derek sitting on opposite heads of the table, with several trays of delicious looking food set on the table between them. Derek was shovelling food into his mouth at a fast pace as his uncle talked at him, seemingly about how they were going to handle the business from here on out. Stiles couldn’t help his curious nature and went to peek in on the conversation from behind the doorframe, the harsh electric lights of the dining room blinding him for a second. He was glad only a few rooms had electric lights, he much preferred the soft light of candles.

“…and you will have to start taking a more active role in the management. I can’t do everything by myself.” Peter took a bite of freshly baked bread, “I’ll have to show you the ropes, but it’s fairly simple once you get the hang of it. Everything will turn out great just as long as you do as I say.” he gave Derek a pointed look, “I am the head of the family now. The responsibility over the business is now on my shoulders.”

Derek seemed content to just listen and nod his head, busying himself with the food.

“This conversations seems awfully one-sided, don’t you think?” Peter wiped his mouth and sat back, his chin tilting up. Stiles knew the look on his face all too well, and flinched back out of habit.

“Do you not care what becomes of this family?” the man’s voice was rising in volume, “We’re the only ones left! And it seems like you don’t even care.”

Derek lifted his gaze toward his uncle finally, his brows lowering threateningly. “I loved my family. They’re all dead now.” he growled.

Peter’s eyes widened in surprise, a smile stretching his lips. “Oh, come on. Don’t be like that. I’m your uncle, dear nephew! We should have each other’s backs.”

“The last time you ‘had someone’s back’ you had a knife in your traitorous hand.” the younger muttered, turning his focus back to the scrambled eggs in front of him.

Suddenly Peter shot up from his chair, knocking it on the floor violently. “Your mother was killed by thieving bandits!”

“You think you’re such a great liar, but no one actually believes your stories.” he stared his uncle straight in the eye.

Peter huffed a few enraged breaths through gritted teeth. Then he smoothed a hand over his hair and shirt before flashing a sickening smile. “I’ll see you at dinner, Derek.” He stormed out of the dining room into the hall.

Derek dropped his fork onto his plate and leaned back in his chair, letting out a deep breath though his nose. Stiles waited a moment to see what the man would do, but he just sat there without moving so Stiles went up to the table to start clearing it up. He started off in Peter’s end, gathering his plates, silverware and an empty breadbasket and taking them back to the kitchen.

He came back to get the rest but as he reached for the basket, that still had some slices of bread in it, on Derek’s side, a hand on his forearm stopped him in his tracks. Stiles whipped his head over to Derek in shock that he hoped didn’t show on his face.

“Have you eaten?” the man asked, not letting go, looking at him but not in his eyes.

The question shocked Stiles even more than the sudden contact. He sputtered over his words as he tried to get an answer out, “Uh, I, I-I haven’t.”

The hand on his loosened its grip.

“Sit.” Derek motioned to the chair on Stiles’ right, next to his own, with his chin and continued eating the now cold eggs.

Stiles hesitated a while but didn’t want to disobey a direct order. He pulled the chair out and sat with his hands in his lap, face turned down but stealing glances at the other man.

“Eat.” the man motioned toward the food still laid out on the table. Stiles’ eyes widened in shock but he obeyed and grabbed a piece of bread from the basket. When he went to put it into his mouth though, a plate of butter was pushed towards him. He smiled at the man in gratitude and confusion before spreading butter onto the slice.

They ate in silence for a while, until Stiles couldn’t hold back anymore.

“Is it true?”

Derek startled a bit and looked at him in confusion.

“I mean the thing you said about Master Hale? About your mother.” The question was out of his mouth before he could stop it and he knew the second he said it, that he shouldn’t have.

Derek frowned and was silent for a while.

“He killed my mother, yes.”

Stiles looked at him in shock for a while. He didn’t expect to be given an answer, he expected to be slapped across the face for speaking out of turn, at least that’s what Peter would have done.

They were both silent for a few beats before Derek turned his attention back to the food and told him: “Just eat, it’s none of your business.”

“Yes, young master. I’m sorry.” he lowered his gaze back to his lap and took another bite.

“Just call me Derek.”

It seemed that the new addition to their household was capable of surprising Stiles over and over. This time he kept his face in check though.

“Yes, master Derek.”

The man let out a breath through his nose but without seeing his face Stiles couldn’t tell if it was in annoyance or amusement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is appreciated :P


	3. Something in the woods

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Think I'll update every friday/saturday (or at least try to)

Stiles didn’t want to be around to listen to the very probable argument that would ensue during dinner among the remaining Hales, so he went to look for Scott, instead. On the way to the stables he saw that the horses had been let out onto the fenced snow covered field, they were all wrapped up in winter blankets. Stiles compared the thick blankets to his thin coat and shivered. No wonder the horses got better treatment, they were worth their weight in silver with the training and breeding the Hales had done to them.

He found Scott raking up straw inside the stables in one of the stalls.

“Hey, you haven’t eaten yet right?” Stiles raised his voice a bit to reach the boy several feet away. Scott dumped a rake full of dirty straw into a wheelbarrow next to him before answering.

“No I haven’t yet.” He went to pick up more straw. “I’ll be done with this in a few minutes, wanna go?”

Stiles smiled and leaned against the open stall door, crossing his arms. “That’s what I came to ask you. Hell yeah I wanna go.”

“Alright then!”

After Scott was done Stiles tailed behind as he went to dump the straw into a pile behind the stables and then they headed to get their servings from the kitchen.

There thankfully wasn’t anyone else in the kitchen, except the chef who was cleaning up, so they went straight up to the pot of soup, and after serving themselves some, sat at an old wooden table that was set up in the kitchen for servants to dine at.

“So how was dealing with Derek last night?” Scott inquired after a few spoonfuls.

 “Surprisingly easy. Poor guy was in shock. Didn’t talk much this morning either though. Guess he’s just not a talkative person.” Stiles shrugged and grabbed a piece of bread from the basket set up on the table, dipping it in the soup.

“Good thing you were there then. You talk enough for two people.” Scott laughed.

“I do not! I just have a lot of insight.”

“Insight about what? Your own ass?” he arched a brow playfully.

“Fuck you, dude.” Stiles laughed and kicked his friend’s shin under the table. He ate a few more mouthfuls before speaking again: “So did they find those guards from last night?”

Scott looked up at him in surprise. “Isaac told me you asked him about them too. What’s your obsession with them?”

“I just wanna… They’re the ones who might know how the fire started. You know I’m a sucker for mysteries.” he responded somewhat sheepishly.

“Yeah, you and your murder books.” the other laughed, “No they haven’t been found. They searched the remains of the house this afternoon and took the Hale bodies for burial. No guards though.”

“Can they even dig graves in this weather? The ground’s frozen solid.”

“No, they were taken into the receiving vault to wait for spring.” Scott replied grimly. “And the coffins aren’t ready yet either so they’re waiting on those too.”

Stiles huffed out a breath, “So there’s a pile of burnt up corpses wrapped up in linen in a cellar right now?” He shook his head in disbelief, “That’s a cruel faith for anyone, let alone the richest family in the capital excluding the royal family.”

They both had a moment of silence.

“Wanna go see the house?” Stiles asked suddenly.

“Why do you want to see it?” Scott asked before realizing it was a stupid question. Of course Stiles wanted to see it. He sighed, “Fine, I’ll go with you, but I don’t wanna get in trouble, so we have to be fast.”

Stiles smiled brightly. “Let’s go tomorrow? After our tasks are finished?”

Scott nodded and checked the clock on the wall before proceeding to shovel the rest of the food down before getting up and taking his bowl to the sink.

“I’ll meet you on the front porch at 9pm tomorrow, then?” Stiles asked him before he could disappear through the door and received a tight-lipped nod. He smiled to himself in his excitement as he finished his meal.

 

* * *

 

Stiles tightened the scarf wrapped around the lower half of his face and pulled his hood further down to cover his forehead as a heavy gust of wind blew against him. The weather was getting worse, it was freezing cold and the snowfall was constantly getting heavier. Even the stars were hidden with a thick layer of clouds, the sky appearing completely black.

“God I hate the cold.” Scott complained as he stepped onto the porch from inside, letting the heavy door bang shut after him. He had on a thick coat and a scarf that he’d tied tightly around his face, his voice a bit muffled underneath.

“Yeah me too.”

“Oh come on, you work inside the whole time, while we’re suffering with the horses.” Scott laughed.

“Yeah, that means you should be more used to it.” Stiles smirked at his friend. The other just shook his head in amusement.

Stiles picked up the oil lamp he had set down next to him on the porch and they started down the stairs and towards the road, the lamp cast flickering shadows around them, their footsteps squeaking in the snow.

As they were walking along the snow covered road, the forest closing all around them, Scott suddenly grabbed the lamp from Stiles and lifted it a little higher, peering between the trees.

“What?”

“I think it was just a shadow.” Scott sounded unsure but handed the lamp back to Stiles.

“You think it was, or you hope it was?”

“Let’s just go.” Scott quickened his pace, trying to shut the thought of something lurking in the woods out.

Stiles hurried after him. “You know the rumours right?”

“About the monster? They just say that to keep kids out of the woods, it’s not real.”

“No it’s totally real! Josie’s seen it. She told me so.”

Scott looked at him quizzically but just kept going.

After a minute or two of them bickering back and forth, they finally got to the house, or what was left of it. Several crumbling chimneys and just a few completely charred walls stood among scattered planks of wood, roof tiles and ash, slowly being buried under the falling snow.

“It’s weird to think there was a three story house here just two days ago.” Scott sighed, his breath coming out in a puff of steam.

“And a family, that’s now in ruins along with it.”

“Yeah.”

They stood there for a while, looking over the ruins, the scene oddly calm and serene.

Then something moved in the dark of the woods, Stiles’ gaze snapping to it.

“There it is again!” he shoved Scott’s shoulder and pointed toward the forest.

“You’re just imagining it.” he sounded like he was consoling himself when he said it, his gaze searching the darkness.

“Am not!”

“Come on we should go back.” Scott started walking back the way they came, following the indentations of his previous steps.

Stiles went to follow him until he saw something again. He looked at Scott briefly before taking off towards the treeline, determined to find out what it was.

“Come on, Stiles. Let’s just go.” Scott pleaded but the other didn’t slow down, so he sighed deeply and followed after him. He wasn’t about to let his friend go wandering around the woods at night all alone.

The snow was deeper in the forest and Stiles was glad he was wearing long boots as he was sinking half way up his calves in snow with each step. He could hear Scott following after him but didn’t slow down.

They were several feet into the forest when something caught his eye. Footprints partially covered by snow. It looked like two people were running through the woods recently, coming from the clearing, headed deeper into the woods. As Stiles got closer he noticed another set of prints in the snow, but these weren’t from a human, the indents were rounded and it seemed to have moved on four legs.

“What animal do you think that was?” Scott asked him when he caught up.

Stiles pulled the scarf covering his face down under his chin to be able to speak better: “I don’t know. Whatever it is, it was huge.” he pointed to the pair of human footprints. “Do you think those could be from the missing guards?”

“They’re fresh enough, yeah.”

They followed the prints deeper into the woods, Scott pleading Stiles to turn back on steady intervals, until they came to a sudden stop.

There was something in the snow.

It was hard to make out the details in the dim light of the oil lamp and with snow partially covering it. Stiles took a few steps closer and bent down until he could make out what it was.

When he did he sucked in a shocked breath trying not to panic.

A corpse.

The face was scratched up and bloody, ice crystals forming around the eyes and mouth, the body so horribly mauled it looked to be torn in half, guts spilling out staining the snow around it with blood. There were several smaller animal footprints around the body, it looked like some animals had been eating the poor man.

The worst part was that Stiles recognized him.

Henry, one of the guards on duty the night of the fire.

Stiles had only talked to the man a few times but he’d worked for the Hales for years.

He turned to Scott who was standing a few feet away, glancing around nervously.

“Wanna see a dead body?” he tried to joke. Mostly to calm himself, though it didn’t work too great.

Scott just shook his head in disbelief. “Who is it?”

“Henry.”

“Goddammit…” he scrunched his eyes shut, covering his face in his gloved hands.

Stiles looked around. There had been two guards on duty.

Luckily he didn’t see another body.

He saw something else.

Eyes.

Glowing in the darkness in the midst of the trees, moving, like the thing was stalking them, like they were prey.

He froze in place, unable to take his eyes off of the thing. It was fairly far away but you could make out the outline of the beast against the trees behind it. It was huge, the withers probably at the height of Stiles’ shoulders. It looked like an overgrown wolf with thick black fur, long sharp canines sticking out of his mouth reaching below the chin.

Scott froze too, after quizzically looking to see what the other was staring at.

“Oh fuck.” he let out under his breath.

“Should we run or…?”

Stiles hadn’t even finished the question before Scott took off, running as fast as he could in the snow. Stiles followed after him. The beast took off after them, its steps surprisingly and terrifyingly silent.

The lamp shook and rattled as he ran. He’d ditch it if it wasn’t pitch dark, they wouldn’t find their way without light, and the monster could probably see them regardless.

They ran among the sparsely planted trees of the forest, scared out of their minds, the huff of their breaths deafeningly loud in their ears.

Stiles, running behind Scott trying to keep up with him, looked back to see where the thing was but found it running next to him.

“Holy fuck!” he took off into the other direction in shock, sprinting as fast as he could.

It seemed to ponder for a second before chasing after him, letting Scott get away.

“Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me…” Stiles huffed out between breaths. He ran as fast as he could, the freezing air burning his lungs, he could taste blood in his throat. He tried to figure out which way the manor was but it was difficult deep in the dark woods so he just chose a direction and hoped for the best.

Suddenly he tripped on something, the lamp flinging from his hands, falling face first on top of something hard. He pushed himself up using his hands and looked at the thing underneath him.

He screamed.

Well at least now he knew what happened to both guards.

He’d managed to find both their bodies. This one in even worse shape than the other one.

He shoved himself off of the corpse, landing onto his back in the snow, his hood had fallen off of his head as he ran and he could feel the freezing cold snow sticking to the hair on the back of his head and falling into the back of his shirt. When he looked up he could see the beast standing before him, its back raising and lowering with harsh breaths, the steam of it sparkled in the light.

For a moment they just stared at each other. Stiles could make out the wolfish features of its face, the long sharp teeth and the yellow glowing eyes. It slowly moved closer, its head barely two feet from his face, staring straight at him, so close its breaths blew his messed up hair out of his face. Its breath smelled stale and Stiles was too scared to even guess what it had eaten.

The beast sniffed at him a few times and then just backed away and ran off.

Stiles was left sitting in the snow, breathing heavily, in the dim light, alone in the middle of the woods.

“What the fuck…?”

The forest fell into silence again, the lamp casting soft shadows from where it had fallen into the snow.

He brushed the snow from his hair and pulled his hood up before he went to tighten his scarf to shield his face from the cold, but found that it wasn’t there anymore. He must have lost it somewhere when they were running for their lives.

“Stiles! Where are you?”

He took a calming breath before standing up, “I’m here!” he went to pick up the lamp from where it had landed a few feet away and brushed the snow off of it. He lifted it high so Scott could hopefully see it.

Apparently he did, as it didn’t take long before he was coming into the light.

“What happened? Are you okay?” he questioned, looking around.

Stiles was still trying to calm his breathing. “It just left, I don’t know.” he shrugged, lost “Guess it deemed me not worthy to kill, or something… I don’t know.”

“Guess so…”

“Also, I found James.” Stiles pointed at the corpse a few feet away from them. Scott flinched as he saw it.

“Guess they weren’t as lucky as us…”

Stiles just nodded. “We shouldn’t have come into the woods…”

“You think?” Scott stared at him with his signature ‘you should have listened to me’ face. Stiles didn’t answer. It seemed like Scott took pity on him and instead said: “Come on. Let’s go back. You need a bath.” He slapped Stiles’ shoulder and they started walking, hopefully in the right direction.


	4. Why?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter is here! :)

Stiles rinsed the soap out of his hair by dipping his head back down into the water. He had been soaking in the tub for a while, the water turning lukewarm without him realizing.

He was glad Scott had volunteered to inform the guards about the bodies they’d found. They had agreed not to talk about the beast, lest they be labelled crazy.

Hell, the only reason Stiles believed he wasn’t crazy was because Scott had seen the thing too.

He just couldn’t get those glowing eyes out of his mind. Every time he closed his eyes he could see the beast leaning over him, its breath ghosting over his face. It made him shiver.

It had chosen to follow him instead of Scott.

It could have killed him. It could have ripped him in two without a problem. But it didn’t.

It just left.

Why?

He splashed his face once more before grabbing a towel and climbing out of the tub, the cold tile floor under his feet making him shiver. He quickly dried off and dressed in his pyjama; a long-sleeved lace up white tunic, with loose fitting shorts underneath, that were mostly hidden under the length of the top.

He threw the towel into the hamper along with his clothes and coat that had gotten James’ blood on it when he fell.

It was going to be a grim task to try and get it clean. He had wet the bloodied spots to make the job easier come tomorrow, though it was very possible the coat was going to be permanently stained.

He went to make his usual rounds to check that his mother had finished her duties, wandering along the dark hallways with a lamp in hand. He was pretty used to walking around the old manor alone in the dark but the night’s events had him on his toes, feeling like something was watching him.

When Derek came around the corner he jumped so hard he almost dropped the lamp.

“God, fuck…” he breathed out.

“Didn’t mean to scare you.” Derek continued forward after he himself had stopped in surprise. He looked dishevelled, his clothes on a little crooked, his hair sticking up, his face glistening with drying sweat, his broad chest rising with heavy breaths. Stiles thought he must have been doing some strenuous activities recently.

It wasn’t unusual to see Peter walking around looking like that, though his partners weren’t always very enthusiastic. Stiles was just glad the man preferred women so he didn’t have to worry about catching the Master’s eye. It was a cruel fate. He hoped Derek was different, he seemed to be, but it was too early to tell for certain.

“No, no, it’s ok. I’m just a little jumpy tonight…” he laid a hand over his heart, feeling it beating hard.

Derek frowned at that but didn’t say anything. He continued toward his room and when he opened the door he looked at Stiles with an unreadable expression.

Stiles stared back confusedly. “Did you need something, Master Derek?”

The man stared silently for a few beats longer before speaking: “Sleep well, Stiles.” He shut the door behind him before Stiles could react.

He was dumbfounded.

He stood there, trying to piece all the confusing pieces together in his heads, trying to build a characterization of the man in his head but couldn’t quite get it to make sense to him. He seemed so stoic and cold, but then invited Stiles to share his breakfast and wished him goodnight? No one had treated him like that before, it was a lot to take in, and it had only been a day of knowing the man.

The sound of running water coming out of the young master’s bathroom shook him out of his thoughts and he continued his round.

Luckily only a few things were out of place and he could get to bed early.

The problem was that his thoughts wouldn’t leave him alone. Now, along with the monster, Derek occupied his thoughts.

He couldn’t make sense of either situation.

He rummaged through his chest for a book he’d taken, without proper permission, from the library, and settled down to read it in the light of the candle on his wobbly nightstand, in hopes of getting his brain to calm down.

A loud banging on the door woke him up.

“It’s six o’clock! Everyone up!” came the voice of one of the night guards.

Apparently Stiles had eventually fallen asleep, but he had no recollection of it, the book laying on his chest, open to a page he didn’t remember reading. He flipped back a few pages and slid the ink blotting paper with an ad for custom-made leather shoes on it that he used as a bookmark, between the pages before closing the book and hiding it in the chest by the foot of the bed under his clothes.

He quickly changed into his uniform and went to the kitchen to find Josephine.

After they were dismissed a maid, Erica, grabbed his arm before he could leave.

“You’re the one that found the bodies, right?”

“Uh… Yeah. How’ve you already heard?” He knew the maids were gossipers but the fact that the word had already travelled this far in not even twelve hours was odd.

“The guards were whispering about it when I went to pick up the milk this morning. I convinced them they should tell me all about it.” Erica smiled smugly and flicked her ponytail over her shoulder.

“Of course you did.” he sighed.

“So… Tell me everything!”

He checked to make sure no one was close enough to hear before telling her the story, leaving out the part about the beast as he and Scott had agreed. She wouldn’t believe him anyway.

She listened in wonder.

“That’s so awesome.”

“It’s not that great to trip on a corpse, believe me.”

Suddenly Anna appeared in the doorway of the kitchen, breathing heavily like she had hurried over, she straightened her pinafore, her dark brown hair falling out of a braid in wisps around her round face.

“Stiles. The Young Master requests you bring him breakfast up to his room.” she huffed out. When Stiles didn’t immediately get to work she added pointedly: “He was very adamant it be you.”

Stiles let out a gentle breath.

“Alright then.”

“Why Stiles?” Erica wondered aloud.

“Honestly, I have no idea. He almost yelled at me, when I tried to tell him that Stiles had other duties.”

Both of them looked at Stiles with questioning expressions.

“Guess he likes me then.” Stiles joked, but the other two seemed to take it pretty seriously.

“If he tries anything, you tell us.” Erica gripped his shoulder gently, her face serious.

“I can handle it, its fine.” he brushed her off, “But thanks. I appreciate it.”

The two maids left to do their duties and he went up to the chef and requested he make a serving of breakfast for Master Derek while he gathered fruit, freshly baked bread and butter on an ornate silver serving tray. He accepted the plate from the chef and set it on the tray as well. After gathering silverware he grabbed the tray and set off towards the Young Master’s bedroom.

He stopped in front of the door and just as he was about to announce his presence, the door opened suddenly, Derek standing behind it.

After Stiles got over his surprise he spoke up. “Your breakfast, as requested.”

“Bring it in.” Derek went to sit in one of the two leather chairs set up in front of the unlit fireplace. He motioned to the little table next to him and Stiles hesitated for a second before setting the tray down.

“Did you need anything else?”

Derek stared at him for a while, his eyes scanning Stiles face.

“No.”

Stiles nodded his head in a slight bow before going to leave. As he was closing the door he heard a muttered: “Thank you.”

That day it seemed like Derek was everywhere. He was in the library when Stiles went to dust the shelves, in the sitting room when he mopped the floors, he passed by him in the corridors several times. Stiles didn’t know whether the man was following him or he was just paying more attention to the other now that he’d become more aware of him.

That evening, after the Hales had finished their meal, when Stiles was having dinner with Scott and Isaac, filling Isaac in on what had happened the night before, Stiles’ father appeared in the doorway.

“What’s up?” Stiles asked, his father rarely had time to himself so him showing up always meant that something important was going on.

“I have to leave for the city.” the man grimly stated.

“What? Why?”

“I’m gonna go and try to find out who set the fire.”

“It wasn’t an accident?” Scott raised his voice in shock.

Noah shook his head. “It’s suspicious how fast the flames engulfed the whole house. It must have been lit in several spots. And the guards were killed. Someone wanted the Hales dead.” he said seriously.

Stiles frowned, letting out a sigh. He knew there was nothing he could say to make his father stay. “Be careful.” He stood up to squeeze Noah into a tight hug.

Noah squeezed back even harder. “I will son.” He let go and went to leave. “Take care of your mother for me?”

“I will.”

They shared a look before the man patted him on the shoulder and left.

“Hope he finds them before they come and burn this house down too.” Isaac shoved the rest of a slice of bread into his mouth.

 

* * *

 

Later that night Stiles was tasked with running a bath for Derek.

He walked up the stairs slowly, deep in thought. He was confused about Derek. The man seemed to have some kind of interest in him, but he couldn’t tell why. He only had experience serving Peter. He’d been born in this house, to his parents who had served here for years prior. He only knew Peter Hale’s way of things, but there were many different kinds of people, and not all would do the horrible things Peter did.

But Derek was his nephew.

But Peter had been shut out of the family.

But Stiles was hesitant to trust a Hale.

He took in a deep breath when he got to the top of the stairs, his heart beating fast. He decided to hold back from judging the man based on their limited interactions. He would still keep his guard up and be careful, but the man hadn’t shown any signs that he wanted to hurt Stiles, instead he’d been nice to him.

It was all so confusing.

Stiles got to the door and like last time it opened just before he was about to announce his presence.

Derek walked back to the chair he had been sitting in and picked the book he’d been reading back up.

Stiles stood in place for a breath before closing the door behind him and heading to the bathroom.

He prepared the bath like he always did, got out the items needed and placed them within reach. He noticed the bath steaming more than usual, the water probably coming out too hot, so he went to adjust the taps.

When he went to touch the brass handle though, he snatched his hand back and let out a yelp, falling to his knees on the tile floor.

“Ow, fuck!”

It was burning hot.

Suddenly Derek burst through the door, looking panicked.

“What happened? Are you hurt?”

Stiles looked down at his left hand. It was shaking, burning with pain, the skin an angry red.

“No, I’m okay.” he answered out of habit closing his hand in a fist and held it to his chest. “The handle was too hot. I’ll be fine.” he nodded towards the tap, still spouting water, and gave a tight-lipped smile.

Derek frowned. He grabbed a towel and used it to turn the water off.

“Show me.” he demanded, kneeling next to Stiles.

Stiles slowly reached out the shaking hand and the man took hold of it gently, his fingers circling the thin wrist easily. Stiles opened his palm and hissed in pain as the motion pulled at the skin.

“You need to ice it.”

_No shit,_ Stiles thought, but didn’t dare to voice it.

“Wait here, I’ll be right back.”

Then the man just stood up and hurried off out of the room.

Stiles looked at the open doorway he had just ran out of.

_What the hell?_

He stood up and went to the bedroom, standing in the middle of it, not knowing what to do.

A moment later he heard quick footsteps ascending the stairs and then Derek was in front of him, taking hold of his hand once more and gently pressing a cloth wrapped up over a chunk of ice on the burn.

Stiles drew in a breath through his teeth at the sensation, the pain easing slightly.

“Thank you, Master Derek.” he flicked his eyes up at the other in wonder and confusion.

The man went to sit in his chair after closing the door, gesturing for Stiles to sit next to him.

“I told you, you can just call me Derek.”

Stiles sat down gingerly, smiling shyly. “That would be inappropriate, Master Derek.”

Derek huffed out a slight laugh.

“Are you thirsty?” he asked.

“No, but thank you. I should return to my duties.” Stiles went to sit up.

“No, stay.”

Stiles froze.

“They’ll make you work if you go. Just stay here for a while.”

Stiles couldn’t argue with that, though he would bolt if the man tried anything.

“Okay, thank you.” he answered quietly.

Derek straightened up in the chair before speaking again.

“I heard… about what happened in the woods last night.”

Stiles snapped his gaze to him.

“I’m sorry you had to see that.” He poured a glass of water from the pitcher on the table between them, handing it to Stiles.

“Yeah…” He accepted the glass with his right hand and took a sip. His gaze shifted to the other’s hands, the skin unblemished, no sign of the terrible burns they’d been covered in just a couple nights ago.

“Your wounds healed really fast.” he observed.

Derek looked at his palms, “Yeah, thanks for helping me that night.” he said, his voice a bit tight.

“I’m sorry about your bath.” Stiles said after they were quiet for a moment.

Derek looked at him, brows raised in surprise. “It’s okay.”

Stiles gave him an apologetic smile. Then frowned.

“My father thinks the fire wasn’t an accident.”

Derek nodded solemnly. “It wasn’t”

“You know?”

The man sat back and sighed. “Yeah.” he took a deep breath and let it out slowly, “I think I know who it was.” he lowered his gaze to his twirling fingers, his brow lowered, expression pained.

Stiles wanted to ask who but thought better of it. Instead he asked: “Do you think they’ll be caught?”

“I hope so. In the meantime I’m not sure how safe we are.” he stood up and went to the window, staring into the darkness, “She might want to come finish the job.”

Stiles stared at the man’s back in shocked silence.

“But you shouldn’t concern yourself with that.” he turned to look at the still seated boy, “You’ll be safe.”

Stiles’ thoughts immediately went to the beast, “How can you be sure?”

Derek just stared at him for a beat and turned back toward the window.

He didn’t give an answer.

The silence made Stiles uncomfortable so he decided to press his luck a bit for the hell of it.

“Do you know about the rumours? About the thing in the woods?” he adjusted the position of the ice wrap, feeling it melting slowly.

Derek paused mid-breath, his shoulders visibly tensing. He spoke sternly with his back turned: “Don’t go into the woods.”

“So, you think it’s true then?”

“Do you?” he challenged turning around to look at the other.

Stiles stiffened, shifting a bit in his seat, he lowered the glass of water onto the table.

“I saw it.” he looked Derek in the eyes, pushing his fear down. “The beast, I saw it.”

The man took a breath and sat down. “Don’t go into the woods, it’s not safe.” he repeated, willing Stiles to listen, his expression stern.

Clearly the man didn’t know him well. That’s exactly the kind of thing you say to make him want to do it even more.

So Derek knew about the beast, but was clearly unwilling to talk about it. Something was up.

Pressing the man on the matter wouldn’t do any good, so he decided to change the topic.

“I’m sorry about your family.”

Derek’s gaze softened and lowered down to the floor. “I just hope they weren’t in too much pain when they died.” he lifted his gaze to the unlit fireplace, seeing the fire in his mind. “They were good people.”

“I didn’t know them, but I’ve heard good things.” Stiles told him, his voice gentle.

They sat in silence then, giving time to their memory.

“What have you heard of me?” Derek questioned then.

Stiles didn’t know how to respond without offending the man.

“I haven’t heard much,” which was true, “just that you like to be left alone. Though that seems to have been false.” he chuckled. He left out the talk of Derek being rude, mean and hard to please.

Derek looked up, looking kind of remorseful. “I won’t call for you again if it makes you uncomfortable.”

“No, no.” Stiles went to fix the situation quickly, realizing he’d offended the man after all. “I’m glad to be of service, Master Derek.”

“Well, you have been.” the man stood up and started off towards the bathroom.

“Oh, yes, the bath. I apologize for troubling you.” Stiles stood up and bowed deeply.

Derek paused in his steps, looking over his shoulder, “Don’t worry about it.”

Stiles bowed again before leaving, letting out a breath once the door closed behind him, he wrapped the cloth around his hand tighter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the nice comments!!
> 
> I hope you liked this chapter as well


	5. Scattered Thoughts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *youtuber voice* WWwwhat's up everybody, we're back at it again with YET another chapter

Derek opened the door just as Stiles got there, the man was already changed out of his pyjama and into basic slacks and a loose fitting shirt with a winged collar, not unlike the shirt Stiles himself was wearing, though stiles also had a white cravat, tied on gently.

“Morning” the man greeted before moving back to let him inside.

“Good morning, master Derek.”

“Just Derek…” he muttered but the other didn’t seem to notice and went to put the tray down. Derek followed after shutting the door and sat down in his usual chair. Again he motioned for Stiles to sit down, which he complied.

Derek handed him a piece of bread from the platter and they both started eating, Stiles a bit hesitantly.

“Oh! I was told the tailor will be here before noon. Someone will come find you once…” Stiles tapered off when he noticed the man staring at him intently.

“ _I_ will come find you once he arrives?” he tried instead.

Derek seemed satisfied with that and took a bite of the apple he was holding.

“You’ll finally get some proper fitting clothes.” Stiles motioned to the way the man’s ankles were on display because the slacks were too short on him amusedly.

Derek glanced down to see what the other meant and shrugged. “I don’t really care what I wear.”

Stiles was a bit shocked. Peter was very particular about what he wore, bitching and complaining almost every morning how ‘this button is on too loose’, ‘there’s a wrinkle on that shirt’, ‘these slacks aren’t pressed properly’ and so on.

“Well, Master Hale is very adamant that everyone in this household looks clean and proper, especially when there’s guests.” he took another bite of the bread, “So I’m afraid he insists you see the tailor.”

Derek nodded and shovelled some eggs into his mouth. “I don’t mind, I just don’t care.”

“How’s your hand?” he asked after swallowing.

Stiles opened his palm to examine it. It was blistering in a few places but it wasn’t as bad as it could be.

“It hurts.” he said truthfully.

“You should be careful with it.”

“I am.” he lied

The man stared at him for a second before offering the other apple on the tray to him.

“You should at least wrap it so it doesn’t get infected.”

Stiles nodded before taking a bite. He couldn’t remember the last time he had a fresh apple, must’ve been when he was a child and servants would sneak him treats from the kitchen.

It was odd, sitting here, eating a third of the young master’s breakfast, chatting with him. The weirdest thing was that he felt comfortable.

 

 

The tailor was lead into the parlour when he arrived and Stiles was sent off to fetch the young master.

He found him in the library, looking over Peter’s shoulder at some papers set out on the long table in the middle of the room. They were discussing, or rather Peter was talking with Derek occasionally grunting in agreement, about finances.

Stiles could only imagine how much work it took to manage a farm this big. All the workers and crops and cattle, selling the produce, meat and milk, buying feed and fertilizer, not to mention all the investors and regular customers… His brain hurt just thinking about it and here were the two remaining Hales, having to suddenly manage it all.

Stiles knocked on the doorframe gently with a single bent finger.

“Excuse me, young master, the tailor is here.” he eyed Peter a bit nervously, fearing the man might be angry to be interrupted.

He wasn’t though. He smiled and shoved Derek toward the door by his shoulder. “Go on then and finally be rid of those rags.” he eyed the others clothing in disdain.

Derek kept a blank face and followed Stiles to the parlour toward the front of the house.

“I’m guessing you’re not too used to Master Hale yet.” Stiles smirked.

“Yeah, I didn’t see him for about five years after we cut ties with him. Just have to get used to it again, he’s not too different from back then.”

“I’ve been here my whole life, he hasn’t changed much as far as I can remember.” he adjusted his cuff absentmindedly.

“You’ve had a hard life then. My uncle is a selfish bastard.”

“That he is.” Stiles chuckled, finding it amusing to insult his Master in front of the man’s own family.

When they were at the parlour door Stiles stopped them and turned to the taller man, eyeing his shirt.

“Excuse me…” he reached up to button up the top button of the man’s shirt and straighten his collar, his cold fingers brushing against the other’s warm skin.

Derek glanced down at his fingers and seemed pleased to find that he had indeed wrapped the burnt hand in gauze.

“You should tuck in your shirt too, Mr. Moore is even more judgemental than your uncle when it comes to clothing.” Stiles gave a tight-lipped smile and a light pat to his chest before taking a step back. “You’ll thank me later.”

Stiles waited as the man, sighing in annoyance, quickly and carelessly shoved the shirt under the waistband of his pants, before opening the door and letting the man in first.

Mr. Moore was stood in front of a standing mirror set up in one corner of the parlour with plenty of space in front of it. He was wearing a plaid double breasted three piece suit with the tie around his neck tied in an elaborate knot.

“Ah, Derek, finally we meet.” the man’s fake smile was practised as he went for a handshake which Derek returned loosely.

The tailor picked up a notebook and fountainpen, looking to Stiles, “You can write, yes?”

When Stiles nodded he was handed the items.

Derek was ushered in front of the mirror and Mr. Moore pulled a measuring tape from his pocket. He guided the man to move this way and that, and called out numbers for Stiles to write down in the notebook.

Stiles was observing how Derek moved, how he stood, how the muscles of his thighs and biceps tensed and loosened as he moved around. It fascinated him.

He’d never really been the type of person to have crushes, his only one being on the daughter of a man who came by now and then to buy and trade horses, but that was several years ago. He’d never been interested in a man, but this is what it must be like. Wanting to, and enjoying, spending time with him, wondering what it would feel like to touch, to taste, to be held by those arms, to be…

“Are you listening, boy?!” the tailors voice broke Stiles out of his fantasies.

“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.” he frantically answered, his cheeks heating in embarrassment.

The man sighed and called the measurement out again and Stiles wrote it down.

This went on for a while more. Stiles focused on the conversation the other two were having rather than on ogling and managed to keep his thoughts in check. For the most part.

The tailor kept trying to ask Derek his preferences and listed off styles, cuts and fits to get the man’s opinion, but he mostly answered with: “I don’t care.” and “You’re the professional.”, and it visibly frustrated the tailor.

Stiles decided to try and fix the situation.

“Excuse me, if you don’t mind, I have a suggestion?” he spoke gingerly.

“And what is that?” Mr. Moore stood up from where he had been kneeling on the floor measuring the circumference of Derek’s right calf, his voice strict.

Stiles swallowed before speaking, his ‘servant voice’ stable and practised. “Master Derek has no clothes of his own, so he needs several full outfits in both casual and formal styles, including night and lounge wear. Master Hale prefers darker fabrics with not too bold prints, I think keeping with his preferences would be best.”

Mr. Moore nodded his head in agreement, a little shocked at how articulate the maid boy was. Derek was looking at the boy in the mirror his expression on the side of impressed.

“Good.” he stated simply, clearly not comfortable conversing with a servant. He kneeled back down and took a few more measurements, including the inseam, which got a slight reaction from Derek, who looked slightly more uncomfortable for a few seconds than he did the rest of the time. Stiles dutifully wrote down the measurement, his lips twitching.

The tailor ended up leaving after the measurements were taken. Stiles offered to walk him to the door but was turned down.

Derek let out a deep sigh after the door to the parlour closed.

“Not a fan?” Stiles joked from where he was seated on one of the velvet chairs.

The man just shook his head and went to open the button Stiles had done up for him but paused midway and lowered his hand.

“It’s uncomfortable.”

“I can only imagine.” Stiles checked the longcase clock that stood by the door. “It’s almost time for lunch, do you want to join Master Hale in the dining room or have it somewhere else?”

Derek gave him a look. “Do you even have to ask?”

Stiles stifled a chuckle.

“I’ll have it in the library.” he went to leave, but paused, “Bring two portions.” he added.

“Yes, Master Derek.” Stiles bowed his head out of habit though the other couldn’t see him. He waited a few beats before going to the kitchen to check on the food.

 

 

“Two portions? Who is he eating with?” Erica jested, her spoon paused midway to her mouth. She was sitting in the kitchen, having lunch with Anna and Benjamin, a broad shouldered brunet guard.

The chef and his helper were busy over by the stove, managing several pots and pans of food.

“I’m guessing he’s just hungry.” Stiles shrugged. He grabbed one of the larger serving trays and started gathering silverware and plates.

“You’re okay?” Anna questioned him softly.

 “I’m good. He’s actually pretty nice.” he answered unwaveringly.

The others stared at him like he was out of his mind. He looked at them one by one.

“I feel like he’s just kind of bad with words.” he turned back to what he was doing.

“He doesn’t need words! His permanent scowl expresses his thoughts well enough.” Erica stated.

“He always looks like he wants to kill me when I talk to him.” Anna shivered.

“I’ve seen him lurking around the property at night. Don’t know what he’s doing but it’s weird.” Benjamin told them.

“See!” Erica motioned between Stiles and Benjamin with the hand that didn’t have a spoon in it. “The guy’s weird! I wouldn’t be surprised if he set the fire himself…” she quieted her voice toward the end and stuck a spoonful of stew into her mouth.

Anna looked at her with wide eyes. “Don’t talk like that! What if someone hears you?” she whispered.

“I’m just saying what we’re all thinking…” she shrugged.

Stiles sighed. “Stop with the gossiping. He dragged the body of his sister out of that fire, give the guy some credit. Besides… he’s kind.”

“Kind?! To who?” Erica was shocked.

“To me at least. Not to you?” He looked to the other three, they were all shaking their heads.

“He scares me…” Anna revealed.

The three quieted and busied themselves with their food, but Stiles knew the second he left they would resume their chattering.

After a few minutes the chef came over to where Stiles had the plates set up and arranged grilled chicken breast and asparagus on both plates and poured sauce over them. Stiles put a few bread rolls and a water pitcher on the tray as well before grabbing it and leaving the kitchen.

 

 

Derek was sitting in the library in a high-backed maroon armchair reading a leather-bound book. He was already looking up as Stiles entered through the open double doors. He stood up after placing a bookmark between the pages and laying it on the small table next to the chair.

Stiles laid the tray down onto the end of the long table in the middle of the room that Master Hale used for business meetings.

“Your lunch, Master Derek.”

Derek sat at the head of the table as Stiles set one portion in front of him on the table, pouring him a glass of water. He straightened up and was about to leave.

“Hope you…” he started, but the man interrupted him.

“Join me.”

“Huh?” Stiles gaped intelligently.

“There’s food for two. So join me.” he motioned to the other portion still left on the tray.

Stiles went to pull out the chair next to Derek but hesitated. “Are you sure?”

“Just sit down, Stiles.” Derek cut into his chicken.

Stiles complied with the order and set the other plate in front of himself and started eating. He managed a few mouthfuls before speaking.

“So, you don’t like eating alone, I assume?”

Derek swallowed before answering. “Laura always ate with me. She didn’t like eating alone. Guess I got too used to it.” he said grimly.

Stiles paused.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“Still.”

They ate in silence for about a minute this time.

“What were you reading?” Stiles asked, unable to keep quiet for too long now that he was getting more and more comfortable in the other’s presence.

“Sleepy hollow.”

“Oh! I’ve been wanting to read that.”

“You like reading?”

“There’s not much enjoyment to have here. Reading books is probably the only fun thing I haven’t been punished for yet.” he laughed, but the other frowned.

“What were you punished for?” his voice was tight.

“A lot of things. Especially when I was younger. The last time was a while ago, I’ve been more careful since. A whipping really teaches you. I couldn’t sit for days.” Stiles laughed, but Derek wasn’t amused.

“What did you do?”

“I used to sneak paper from the study and draw pictures. Master Hale really wasn’t pleased and called me a thief.” he looked down at his plate as he recalled the painful memory, “He bent me over a table and whipped me with a cane in front of everyone to ‘make an example’ of me. I was 13.” his brows twitched.

Derek ground his teeth together.

“Peter is a fucking monster.”

Stiles couldn’t agree more, but didn’t express it, scared his voice wouldn’t be stable if he tried to speak.

A few beats of silence.

“Your father called. He’s staying at an inn in the city.”

Stiles gaped. “What did he say?”

“Peter answered the phone so I’m not sure. He’s fine though.”

Stiles sighed in relief. “That’s good… I always worry about him too much. He’s very capable of taking care of himself.” he laughed at himself, a bit ashamed.

“He’s your father.” Derek simply stated but Stiles understood what he meant.

Stiles gathered up the plates onto the tray when they finished. He still couldn’t believe he’d actually been given a meal like that. He couldn’t even remember when he tasted something so delicious. The soups and stews the staff were served were minimally seasoned and made out of mostly scraps.

“Thank you.” he said with a little smile as he left to take the dishes to the kitchen.

That evening Peter insisted Derek join him for dinner in the dining room to discuss business and Stiles took the opportunity to gather his scattered thoughts.

Firstly the beast.

It had killed two people that he knew of. It wasn’t a normal wolf. It was something else. Maybe he could find something in one of the hundreds of books in the library about it. He could also ask Josie about it, see if she knew something.

Good. A plan.

Second, Derek.

He was nice to Stiles, but no one else. He fed Stiles, talked to him, and wanted him around. Could it be that he used Stiles as a substitute for his family? He didn’t have anyone other than his uncle, who really wasn’t the nicest person. Stiles had been nice to him and taken care of him, so it was very possible Derek had kind of imprinted on him, like a duckling.

Stiles chuckled at the thought, receiving a weird look from Isaac who sat next to him as they ate in the kitchen.

Stiles wasn’t sure if Derek’s interest in him was purely platonic though. He might be reading too much into the situation in hopes that it wasn’t.

He felt bad being attracted to Derek. The poor man had just lost everyone he loves and seemed to just want someone to be there for him and here Stiles was ogling him and fantasising about him.

He felt kind of disgusted with himself.

He was probably being selfish and reading too much into the situation.

Stiles finished his meal and left to continue his duties.

He was even more certain that the man had a good heart when he was going to bed that night and found something on his bed.

He picked it up as Boyd entered the room.

“Young master left that for you. He came in before dinner and asked which bed was yours so I told him. Hope you don’t mind.”

“No, thanks.” Stiles muttered as he stared at the book in his hands.

Sleepy hollow.


	6. Friends

The next morning Stiles gathered more food than normally on the tray as he went to bring Derek his breakfast.

As usual Derek opened the door and let the shorter boy in, closing the door behind them.

Stiles laid the tray down and looked to Derek who, as Stiles anticipated, motioned for him to sit down. This time Stiles felt fairly comfortable picking and eating things off of the platter.

“Do you not like eggs?” Derek questioned him.

“Huh?”

“There’s only one plate of eggs.”

“Oh.” Stiles thought for a second before answering. “I didn’t want to assume…”

“Bring two plates tomorrow.”

“Yes Master Derek.”

Derek paused in his eating. “I’ve told you to just call me Derek.”

“You know I can’t do that. I’d get in trouble” Stiles told him, a bit shy. It was way too intimate, and if Peter heard he would punish Stiles for being disrespectful.

The man was quiet for a while. “Just when we’re alone then?”

Stiles looked at the man. Why was it so important to him that Stiles wouldn’t call him master? He willed his hopeful, inappropriate thoughts away.

“Okay.”

Derek nodded, satisfied, and went back to the food. He pushed the plate with scrambled eggs on it over to Stiles. The boy looked at him in bafflement.

“Eat.”

“You know, you speak like a caveman.” Stiles laughed before realizing he just insulted the man. He really was dropping his guard around him, maybe a bit too much. He looked to Derek warily to see how he’d react.

The man’s gaze shot up to meet Stiles’ in shock, his face blank except for a slight twitch of the corner of his mouth, like a smile was threatening to appear, before he turned his face back down and shoved a bread roll in his mouth.

“I’m sorry.” Stiles tried.

“No, it’s fine. You’re right.”

“No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t talk to you like that Master Der…” he was getting flustered.

“Just Derek.” the man looked at him, his voice getting an authoritative hint, before he willed it down, softening his tone. “Don’t hold your tongue. I don’t mind.”

Stiles’ heart was beating fast in his chest but the man’s words calmed him down slightly.

They ate in uncomfortable silence until Stiles broke it, again.

“Thank you for the book.” his voice came out a bit higher pitched than normal, his throat tense.

Derek looked up at him for a beat before lowering his gaze to the food. He didn’t answer, but seemed a bit embarrassed.

Stiles felt his lips twitch in a smile.

“How long have you been here?” Derek asked then, likely just wanting to change the subject quickly. He waited for a second for Stiles to answer and found the other looking at him in confusion when he looked at the boy, so he specified: “In this house, serving Peter? You said you were thirteen when…”

“Yeah.” Stiles cut him off, saving them both the discomfort of bringing it up. “I was born here.”

Derek looked at him, his brows raising a bit in shock.

“My parents worked here for years before I was born.”

“So you grew up as a maid?”

“Basically. Master Hale wanted to put me to work in the stables but my dad talked him into letting me join the maids instead. Wanted me and my mother together, though we don’t see each other much.” Stiles told him, his tone getting sad at the end.

“Your mother?”

“Claudia, she works as a maid too, though her health hasn’t been the best lately.” Stiles found himself talking about his family freely to Derek.

“She okay?”

“Yes, physically she’s alright but she has trouble remembering things. That gets her in trouble sometimes, though I try and make sure that she’s done her duties at the end of the night before I go to bed. Sometimes it takes a long time so I don’t always get to sleep too much.”

Derek’s scowl deepened.

“But it’s fine. We’re good.” he tried to lighten the mood a bit.

By now they had finished everything on the tray so Stiles stood up, ready to leave.

“You should get dressed. Should I bring you something to wear?”

Derek stood up as well.

“No it’s fine.”

Stiles nodded and grabbed the tray.

“The tailor should be sending over some clothes for you tomorrow.”

Derek nodded as he went to open the door for the boy.

“Thank you for letting me eat with you again… Derek.” he tried to address the man the way he had been told to. It felt weird to leave out the honorific but the softening of Derek’s expression reassured him.

 

 

That night as he was doing his usual check he heard silent melody coming from somewhere in the mansion.

He followed the sound, quietly creeping around the corridors toward a sitting room where he knew a grand piano was set up on a small stage.

He carefully opened one side of the double doors about an inch and peeked through.

Derek was sitting on a velvet stool in front of the piano, softly playing a melancholic melody, his body very still except for his hands which drifted across the keys. Stiles could see his profile, his face scrunched up in concentration, illuminated by the few wall mounted candles still lit in the room, giving his silhouette a softly glowing edge.

He was still wearing his day clothes. He had been in conversation with his uncle most of the evening so Stiles hadn’t seen him after they had lunch together in Derek’s bedroom. They hadn’t talked too much then as they didn’t have much time, but Derek had told him they were still very much in the process of figuring everything out with the farm.

Night time was probably the only time the man wasn’t expected to be working. It was the same for Stiles. He found calmness and freedom in the darkness of night. Free of duties, of responsibility.

The song faded out into silence.

“You know, it’s rude to stare.” Derek spoke softly to the wall behind the piano.

Stiles startled. He straightened up and opened the door to enter the room, setting the lamp he was carrying down on the floor by the door. He thought he’d been quiet enough that Derek wouldn’t notice him, but apparently he’d been wrong.

“I’m sorry.” he shut the door gently behind him, lowering his gaze to the floor in apology for a second before looking at the man again. “That was… beautiful.”

“My mother wrote it. It has very poetic lyrics.” Derek turned around to face Stiles.

“I would love to hear them.”

Derek chuckled a bit, shocking Stiles, the sound making something in his chest feel tight.

“I can’t sing, I couldn’t do the song justice.”

“She’s your mother, I don’t think she’d mind.” he looked at Derek with a soft smile.

The man was quiet for a moment.

“Do you play?”

Stiles blinked. “No. We’re not allowed to touch the instruments other than dusting them. I’ve always wanted to though.”

Derek’s expression hardened for a second before smoothing out again.

“Come.” he beckoned Stiles closer, shifting to the right side on the wide stool to make room for the other.

Stiles hesitated for a beat before deciding to just go with it. He sat down next to the man, their thighs less than an inch away from touching, their shoulders almost brushing together. Stiles turned to look at the man and noticed their height difference was emphasized when they were seated, Stiles appearing half a head shorter rather than the few inches when they were standing, Stiles’ long legs not giving him any advantage in this position. He turned his attention to the piano when Derek started pointing out keys for him to press.

“Put your fingers here, here and here and hold for two beats, then change here…”

Stiles complied, setting his fingers on the keys as instructed. The chord sounded a bit wonky at first but after practising a few times to get all his fingers to press the keys at the same time he managed to produce a nice, unified sound.

“It’s like you’re teaching me how to get the piano to orgasm.” Stiles joked without thinking, the late hour and sleepiness clearly inhibiting his brain-to-mouth filter.

Derek convulsed on either a cough or a laugh, doubling over, turning his face away. He straightened up almost instantly and looked as if nothing was wrong.

“Think it would take a bit more than just pressing your fingers down on three spots to get that to happen, or does that do it for you?” Derek raised an eyebrow at Stiles who gaped at him.

“No one is ever going to believe me if I told them you just said that.” he laughed.

Derek’s lips twitched up a bit before turning back to the piano and continuing with the instructions, Stiles following along. He was only playing three chords, switching between them a bit clumsily at first, having to use his left hand not making it any easier, but he got the hang of it eventually.

When all the chords sounded stable, Derek put the fingers of his right hand onto the keys and played a simple slow melody with Stiles accompanying him.

Stiles stole quick glances at the man next to him. He seemed so relaxed in his tired state, so soft, it made Stiles’ fingers tingle with the desire to touch him, his shoulder and thigh reacting to the warmth of the others body by raising goose bumps under the pyjama he was wearing. He watched the way the other’s thick long fingers looked so certain in their movements. He got a bit too lost in studying the man next to him and messed up, making a jarring sound, startling them both.

“Shit, sorry”

“It’s alright.”

“Guess I won’t be the next Beethoven.” he laughed turning his body to look at the man next to him, his thigh pressing against the other’s surprisingly firm muscle, he found himself staring him in the eyes, their faces not even a foot apart.

They just stared at each other for what felt to Stiles like an eternity, but was most likely less than two seconds.

Stiles broke the eye contact when he surfaced from the stream of thoughts flooding his mind.

“It’s late, we should get to bed.” he was flustered, his heartbeats quickening. He stood up off of the bench and went to blow out the candles in the room, leaving them only in the light of the lamp.

“Right.” Derek stood up and followed Stiles to the door where the boy picked up the lamp and they left the room.

They paused in the corridor for a bit, turning to each other.

“Goodnight…Derek.”

“Night, Stiles.”

They went their separate ways.

 

 

The next morning Stiles stayed behind in the kitchen with Josephine after the other maids left. She looked at him questioningly.

“So…” Stiles played with his thumbs as he spoke nervously. “You know when you said you saw that thing in the woods? Do you know what it is?”

She scrunched her face in suspicion.

“Why do you ask?”

“No reason.” he answered a bit too quickly to lessen her suspicion. “Just curious.”

“You’ve seen it, haven’t you? That night you and Scott were in the woods looking for the bodies.”

“We weren’t looking for them! We just… stumbled upon them.”

“Right…” she sighed before her face turned serious, her voice lowering “That thing… it’s not of this world, it’s a demon from the depths of hell itself. Pray to god you won’t see it again, it kills for pleasure.”

Stiles stared at her with wide eyes, caught off guard. He wasn’t really a religious person but the thought of that horrific beast being a demon really didn’t seem that farfetched to him, it was terrifying enough.

“Now… Get to your duties and erase that thing from your thoughts before it corrupts you.” Josephine waved him away with a limp wrist.

Stiles nodded and went to assemble breakfast, which he took to Derek as usual. This time he made sure to get two plates, though he made the other serving smaller.

When he got to the hallway he saw Derek’s door was open with the man standing in the doorway wearing a shirt and pants that were a little too tight, and a maid, Marilyn, holding a wooden box. He couldn’t really hear what she said but he could tell she was scared, not meeting Derek’s eyes, her voice wavering. When Derek took the box from her thin arms she bowed low before almost sprinting off, past Stiles.

Stiles turned to look at her, concerned of the way she was acting. Anna had said she was afraid of the man too but it still baffled him. Derek was nice and caring, regardless of the fact that he was usually frowning and seemed intimidating with his wide stance and monotone, dismissive way of speaking.

Derek went to put the box down in his room and Stiles followed him in.

“What was that about?” he questioned as he laid the tray down in its usual spot.

Derek just shrugged.

“She seemed really terrified.” Stiles sat down, now feeling comfortable enough to not ask permission.

“I didn’t even say anything.” Derek followed suit and sat next to him starting to eat.

“Hmm. I’ve heard others say they’re scared of you.”

The man looked a bit surprised.

“I think it’s just your face. It’s intimidating.” he laughed as he grabbed a buttered slice of bread from the tray.

Derek frowned.

“What about you?”

“Huh?”

“Do I scare you?” he didn’t look at Stiles.

The boy was stunned, unsure of how to answer.

“Not anymore.” he decided to answer truthfully.

Derek halted in his eating for a beat but didn’t give any other reaction.

They ate their breakfast in a slightly uncomfortable silence after that, with Stiles trying to make small talk now and then but not really getting a response. Once Stiles finished he spoke up again.

“That box came from Mr. Moore, right?”

Derek just grunted, which Stiles guessed meant: “I don’t know”

“Do you want me to open it?”

“Go ahead.”

Stiles stood up and went to the wooden box that Derek had laid down on the bed and opened the lid. Inside lay gently folded clothes which Stiles picked up one by one and laid out on the bed. There were a few casual button up shirts and two pairs of black slacks in different styles, along with a pyjama set in a dark satin fabric.

“Seems he made the essentials first.” he wondered aloud.

He only received another grunt in reply so he went to pull out the pair of suede shoes at the bottom to look them over before placing them back. He put the other clothes back too and picked up the box to take it to the walk-in closet where he laid it down and started putting them in the proper places. He reached up on his tiptoes to put the box onto a shelf after it was empty and straightened his shirt, which had risen up his stomach, as he walked back into the bedroom.

“How are things with the farm going? Still a lot of paperwork?” he stood next to the bed leaning his weight on one foot, his hip cocking to the side, and folded his arms loosely.

Derek’s gaze wandered from the plate he was eating from, up his legs, over his torso, up to his face before it turned away again.

“Peter wants to hold a banquet for investors and important customers and such. Like a formal introduction to the new management. Basically an ass licking feast.”

Stiles huffed out an amused breath. “I take it you don’t really like parties.”

“I don’t.”

“When is it?”

“This Saturday.”

“So soon?”

“Peter want’s to show that he’s a trustworthy person to keep the investors in.” Derek put down his fork and wiped his mouth with a cloth napkin.

“So you’ll have to mingle with them too, then.”

“Unfortunately.” the man grumbled.

“Well, it’s just one night. You’ll be fine.” Stiles gave him an encouraging smile as he went to pick up the silver tray. “Do you need anything else?” he almost added ‘Master Derek’ to the end but held it back.

“No.”

The blunt reply amused Stiles but he hid his smile by turning to the door.

“Alright, I’ll be going then.” he left and closed the door behind him.

When he went down to the kitchen he found Scott, Isaac and Boyd eating breakfast at the table.

“Oh hey, Stiles! Join us?” Scott seemed excited to see him. They really hadn’t seen each other that much since Stiles was eating with Derek instead. They only had time to chat during meals and before going to bed for the night, but now that Stiles ate most of his meals with Derek, they didn’t see each other too often.

“I would, but I already ate, sorry.” he set the tray down next to the sink.

“Who’d you eat with?” Scott asked.

“Derek.”

“You’re spending a lot of time with him. What’s the deal?”

“You abandoning us for him?” Isaac piped in, laughing.

“Of course not!” Stiles went to sit with them. “He just always asks for me and wants me to eat with him.”

“Just eat?” Isaac quirked a brow suggestively.

The question flustered Stiles, though that was the truth. “Yeah. That and talking.”

“He talks?” asked Scott.

“I heard he only talks with his eyebrows and grunts.” Isaac demonstrated the ‘talking’ with his eyebrows, making weird faces.

“He does. Though he tends to speak like a caveman sometimes.” Stiles ignored Isaac, laughing.

“So you’re friends?” Boyd finally spoke, getting everyone’s attention.

Stiles thought for a second. “No, I wouldn’t say that. I don’t really know. We get along well enough I guess.” He definitely knew he wanted to be around Derek but ‘friends’ didn’t sound right to him. He didn’t know what name or label give their relationship and he really didn’t want to admit to himself that he had a crush on him or explore the thought further.

It was hopeless anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure I'll be able to update another chapter next weekend, sorry.
> 
> There will be more though, don't worry!


	7. Revenge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks to my best broski for the idea for this chapter, hope it's okay

After having dinner with Derek, with some small talk, Stiles hurried to finish his duties for the day. He’d have to still run a bath for Derek later in the evening but that hopefully wouldn’t take too long.

He’d decided to sneak into the library tonight.

Running the bath was quickly over and with a wish of goodnight to Derek he quickly made his way around the mansion to check that his mother’s tasks were done properly. He had to dust a few things but he managed his round in about an hour.

After that he needed to bathe, as it would be too noisy to do in the middle of the night.

When he got to his room though, he saw that Scott was there, sitting on his bed untying his shoes.

“Why the hurry?” he questioned Stiles when he noticed the other frantically digging through his belongings.

“I’m going to the library tonight.” Stiles answered distractedly, not lifting his eyes to acknowledge the other.

“Why?”

“To find out what the fuck that thing was in the woods.” Stiles found his pyjama and a towel and straightened up.

“You think they would have a book on something like that?”

“I don’t know. I hope so.” Stiles went to leave to room to bathe but stopped and turned to his friend “You could come with, if you want?”

“I’d rather just push that thing out of my mind, pretend it never happened, you know?”

“Yeah, I get it.” he went to leave again.

“Be careful. Don’t get caught.”

“You know me, I’ll be okay.”

“Yeah, but still.”

Stiles sighed. Scott really was protective, sometimes a bit too much so.

“I’ll be careful.” he finally said with a gentle smile and left to bathe.

 

 

The candles in the hallways had been put out so Stiles had to rely on his trusted oil lamp to find his way to the library in the dark. Everything was quiet up here, all the servants settled in their rooms downstairs, the guards circling outside, only one of them inside the mansion at a time. Stiles’ footsteps echoed softly from the wooden panelling on the walls, the hallway seemingly endless as the lamp only illuminated the walls beside him, the darkness stretching before him, never getting any closer.

He counted the doors he passed, turned around corners he had familiarized himself with in the years he’d spent in this house, until he got to the double doors leading to the library, the white of the paint on them bright against the dark wood of the wall.

He opened the door slowly and peeked in to see complete darkness. He was alone. Perfect.

He went inside and closed the door behind him as quietly as possible.

He walked past the table in the center and went to the bookshelf he knew had the more scientific books. Using the light he had, he found a book on local wild animals and pulled it out. He laid it down on the floor and kneeled to browse through it. It had information about wolves but none of the illustrations really looked like the thing he’d seen.

Just remembering its face had shivers running down his spine and he felt nervous and uncomfortable being in the dark alone. He lifted the lamp and had a look around to ease his anxiety and make sure he was still alone.

Everything was still where it should be, no weird shadows creeping around. None of the paintings had moved, though he sometimes convinced himself the eyes of the portrait in the formal sitting room were following his movements.

He put the book back where he found it and kept looking.

Another book about animals; nothing.

Another, still nothing.

He was getting frustrated and was about to give up when he noticed an ancient looking leather-bound book with the word ‘Bestiary’ written on the spine in faded golden letters. He pulled it out and kneeled down to look through it. It had descriptions of several animals, both familiar and unfamiliar to Stiles. He flipped the pages until he found something. An illustration of a large wolf-like beast.

It wasn’t an exact match, this one’s teeth were longer and its head was a different shape, but it was definitely the same creature.

“Ohmygod…” he let out under his breath.

‘The Werewolf’

He slipped off of his knees, his butt hitting the floor as he leaned over to read the description.

‘A man cursed to become a beast with an uncontrollable thirst for blood and violence when the moon is full. The curse is transferred by blood and bite...’

‘…takes the form of a wolf…’

‘…indiscernible in human form…”

‘…glowing eyes…’

‘…rips humans apart…’

‘…can’t be killed…’

‘…avoid at all costs.’

Stiles browsed through the text, too anxious to pause and read through the whole thing, his breathing becoming laboured.

The description was too fitting to not be the beast that he’d seen.

A werewolf that walked in human form when it pleased.

It could be anybody.

It could kill anyone.

The thought was terrifying.

He read through the page again, slower this time, to memorise everything before shutting the book and putting it back in its place on the shelf.

Stiles took a few calming breaths.

He didn’t know what to do.

He was terrified but his curious nature wanted to find it again. Knowing it was at least partly human was good right? That meant he could talk to it.

Right?

Now he just needed to find the time, and courage, to go into the woods again.

Stiles picked up the lamp and left.

 

 

The next morning Josephine informed everyone of the plans to hold a banquet in a few days, which meant changes to daily duties. New servants were going to be brought in tomorrow or the day after, but they would need to be trained. They were going to be busy.

Stiles sighed. He really wanted to have time to go into the woods again, though he was still having nightmares about the last time he went. That had to wait now.

 

 

Stiles was carrying a laundry basket through the hall when he heard Peter’s voice coming from his room. He couldn’t make out the words, but he could tell the man was angry.

Then a loud slap and a pained yelp.

That had Stiles hurrying over to peek through the open door.

He saw Peter standing with a scowl on his face, a red shirt in his left hand. Marilyn was on the floor leaning on one hand with the other pressed to her cheek, her eyes watering, gaze cast down in fear.

“You useless piece of shit, I should send you back to the streets.” Peter growled. “Get the fuck out of my sight.” He threw the shirt on the floor next to her.

She grabbed the shirt and hurried out the door toward Stiles, who backed away to avoid being seen by Peter when the door opened wider.

He let her close the door behind her before he confronted her, laying his hand gently on her arm as they walked and lowered his face to her level, his voice low.

“Are you okay? What happened?”

She sniffled and wiped at her eyes before answering. “There was a rip in the shirt and… and I tried to fix it, but…” She handed him the shirt limply.

Stiles found the stitching she’d done easily, the white thread easy to spot against the darker fabric.

“There wasn’t any red thread left so… It was my fault, I should’ve known better.” she sniffled, shaking her head dispiritedly.

“A little mistake like this… He had no fucking right to hit you.” Stiles turned to her fully, stopping them in their tracks, his voice vehement. She looked to him, her slapped cheek glowing red, eyes wet, and hair strewn around messily.

“It’s fine. I’m used to it.” She grabbed the shirt back from Stiles and started walking again.

“You shouldn’t be…” Stiles whispered to her back dejectedly.

He started off in the other direction but stopped in surprise when he saw Derek looming at the bend of the hallway, halfway hidden behind the wall.

The man motioned for Stiles to follow him with a tilt of his head and the younger obeyed, following him into his room.

Derek barely had time to close the door before Stiles’ anger surfaced.

“What the fuck is wrong with your uncle?!” he whisper-yelled, throwing his arms in the air, the laundry basket dropped to the floor. “How can a person be so… And he just does that and no one does anything because he’d probably beat them to fucking death if they dared speak against him. He was probably that kid that threw rocks at the ducks for fun and put rat poison in his siblings’ food when they stole his toys or some shit.” He paced around, his arms flailing.

Derek stood by the door with his arms crossed.

“Not me.”

“What?” Stiles paused in his ramblings at the comment. 

“He can’t do anything to me.”

“What?”

“I’ll do something about it.” he announced nonchalantly, stepping further into the room, letting his arms drop to his sides.

“What? No, you can’t. He’ll make your life a living hell if you go against him. People will talk. You’ll get arrested. Or something.”

“No one will talk, if they don’t know it was me.”

Stiles scrunched his brows. “What do you mean?”

“The only way to get to Peter is to humiliate him. But it has to be subtle.” the man didn’t seem fully confident in his words, but the possibility of getting to humiliate that bastard was too good to pass.

“I’m listening.”

“You want revenge?”

“Fuck yes.”

Derek nodded. “Today Peter is meeting with a man who agreed to sell servants to us. I’ll be there too. What do you want to do?”

The smile that stretched on Stiles’ face was part overwhelming glee, part malicious.

“I think we can come up with something.”

 

 

“Please come in!” Peter greeted the man as he walked in through the front door that was held open by Stiles. Behind him followed three servants wearing completely black uniforms, following behind him like ducklings, their gazes fixed toward the floor.

Stiles took the bottle of whiskey the man had brought over and helped him out of his coat, taking it to the closet as the men exchanged greetings.

Derek shook the man’s hand after Peter as his uncle introduced them.

“This is my nephew, Derek. Derek this is Mr. Martin of the Royal bank.”

Mr. Martin was a familiar face to Stiles. He was one of the main investors, and he had an interest in horseracing, often coming over to buy trained stallions. His daughter was a friend of Stiles’ when they were both young, though he hadn’t seen her for a while.

Derek released his grip after greeting the man and they went to the dining room to chat, the three servants lined up against a wall inside, and Peter slowed in his steps as he passed them, studying them like they were merchandise.

Stiles followed after all of them eyeing the servants himself, though he was much more subtle, having learned the art of observing things from the corner of his eye without drawing attention.

One of them was of African descent, late teens to early twenties and about half a head taller than the others, maybe a bit taller than Stiles, though he couldn’t tell for sure from where he was standing. The boy stood with learned poise, in contrast to the other boy among them, who looked younger and stood with poor posture, glancing around in a way that suggested he was still undisciplined. His hair was light and wild, sticking up despite obvious efforts to tame it. Stiles felt bad for the boy, for the future he would have here under Peter’s command if that unruly behaviour continued.

The last among them was an older woman, maybe in her forties, with a few wrinkles around her eyes but no grey hairs. Her expression showed soft confidence, her posture trained straight, her light hair pulled up into a tight bun. She reminded Stiles of Josephine, though the housekeeper exuded a much more intimidating authoritative aura.

“Pour us glasses of that would you?” Derek gestured to the whiskey Stiles was still holding and the younger went to grab glasses from the bar at the end of the long room as the three men settled around the table.

Actually two of them settled. One of them went crashing down on the floor as the chair at the end of the table gave out from under him.

The crash startled Stiles into almost dropping the bottle. He didn’t dare turn around from the task he’d been given. Or maybe he was unable to move because the sound of Derek’s laughter made his chest tighten almost uncomfortably.

He had never heard the man laugh freely like that before, even though they had spent so much time together. Then again he really wasn’t too expressive so it was no wonder. Stiles did his best to store the sound in his memory.

There was also a snort of laughter from the three servants who were brought in and without looking, he could tell that it was the untrained boy.

“Might want to lay off the desserts, uncle.” Derek smirked victoriously at Peter.

Peter’s face twitched in rage for a millisecond before he forced it into a light smile.

“Guess you’re right.” he laughed along, but Stiles could tell he was enraged. He dusted off his pants and pulled out a different chair, looking at Derek in the eyes as he sat down, as if daring him to do something else.

Mr. Martin laughed unabashedly. “Or maybe the spirits don’t approve of you. Dear late Hales’ haven’t come to protest, have they?”

Stiles forced his smile down as he turned around with a small tray in hand with the drinks on it to serve them. He went to Mr. Martin first, who was now trying to contain his laughter, and set the glass in front of him.

“Just a strike of bad luck I hope.” Peter answered, trying to diffuse the humiliating situation and move on.

Stiles took his place in a corner after serving the drinks and waited, observing the situation.

“So I see you’ve brought some friends along.” Peter prompted.

Mr. Martin turned to look at the ‘merchandise’ to his left. “Yes. As we discussed, I brought three capable servants of various skills. Margaret here has a lot of experience with housework, Mason is very obedient and adaptable, and finally Liam here is fairly new, but he’s very passionate and can be moulded into anything with a bit of discipline. ” He gestured at the three individually as he introduced them.

“I won’t pay full price for that untrained pup.” Peter said frankly after a moment of consideration.

Mr. Martin didn’t seem phased. “Understandable.”

They went on to barter a prize they were both comfortable with and Derek wrote down a contract for them to sign and slid it and a pen over to Peter to sign, who in turn slid it over to Mr. Martin who looked it over before going to sign it.

Peter sat back smugly and took a drink from his as of yet untouched glass.

And coughed violently, splattering the whiskey on the table and dribbling it down his chin. Stiles immediately went to him and offered a cloth napkin that the man cleaned himself up with.

“I’m sorry, was it not to your liking?” Mr. Martin lifted his gaze from the paper, pen hovering above it, lifting a questioning eyebrow. Stiles couldn’t really make out whether the man was being sarcastic or serious.

“Some just can’t handle the taste of whiskey.” Derek smirked at his uncle as he calmly took a sip of his own, receiving a harsh look from his uncle.

Mr. Martin hummed in agreement as he signed. He put the pen down and picked up his half empty drink, twirling the glass in his hand. “It is bit of an acquired taste, isn’t it?” He shared an amused look with Derek.

“Just went down the wrong pipe is all.” Peter smiled as he wiped the droplets on the table. He grabbed the glass again and took a drink, this time swallowing it without even a grimace, staring straight at Derek while doing so. Derek just raised an eyebrow back at him.

Stiles had been a bit apprehensive about mixing salt into Master Hale’s drink, fearing it might come to bite him in the ass, but now he was glad he did it, the look on the man’s face had been priceless.

With the meeting concluded Stiles escorted their guest out to the entrance hall and fetched his coat.

“Thank you for coming. Have a good evening.” Stiles bowed deeply as he held the door open for Mr. Martin to step outside, only receiving a slight nod of acknowledgement in return, but that was nothing new – servants often weren’t treated like people.

As he went to go back he could hear a glass shatter in the dining room.

“Don’t fuck with me!” Peter’s voice boomed from the room, probably loud enough to be heard throughout the mansion.

“Whatever do you mean?” Derek’s voice was calm and light.

“I could kill you, you know?”

“But you won’t.”

Peter growled as he stormed out of the room, past Stiles. The boy went in to see Derek still sitting in his chair, pouring another glass of whiskey for himself. When he noticed the boy enter the room he gave a little smirk.

“That was fucking amazing.” the shorter boy laughed.

Derek let out an amused huff around a mouthful of whiskey before swallowing it and speaking.

“Haven’t had that much fun in years.”

“Too bad I couldn’t see his face as he fell.” Stiles went to the head of the table and gathered the legs of the chair that they had removed screws from. Derek came over and fished said screws out of his pocket and together they put the chair back together with the aid of a screwdriver Stiles had sneaked from storage.

Both of them forgot about the three servants still standing against the wall until one of them spoke up.

“You did that on purpose?” It was Liam. Of course, he couldn’t keep his mouth shut.

“Yeah.” Derek stood up and pushed the now assembled chair back into its place and looked to Stiles. “I’m leaving them in your care for now. Josephine will take over in the morning.” He grabbed the contract off of the table as he went.

“Alright.” Stiles nodded, waving after the man with the screwdriver he was still holding, before pocketing it as best as he could, and turned to the new servants.

“Welcome. I’m Stiles.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks so much for the support!!
> 
> I don't have any more prewritten chapters now so I can't guarantee I'll be uploading chapters every week, but I'll try!


	8. Out of the frying pan...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here I am! Again!
> 
> Took a bit, but here's another chapter.
> 
> Hopefully I'll be updating next week too but no promises :D

“Welcome. I’m Stiles.”

The three were shocked into silence by what had just gone down.

“Oh don’t worry it’s not like that here all the time. Ever actually. That was just a bit of payback.” Stiles laughed.

Liam and Mason glanced at each other, their wary questioning gazes fixing back onto Stiles.

An awkward silence, broken by the oldest in the room, Margaret, who cleared her throat and spoke in a light tone: “Where will we be staying?” She arched an eyebrow, clearly not as impressed by Stiles’ antics as the other two were.

“Oh! Yeah, of course. Follow me.”

Stiles lead them down to the servants’ quarters. He stopped in front of the room where Erica, Anna and Marilyn were staying and knocked on the door. When he didn’t get an answer – he hadn’t expected to – he opened the creaky door and went inside.

“So, Margaret was it?” Stiles turned to face the new hires, taking a few steps backwards.

She nodded.

Stiles proceeded to point out an empty bed for her and dug sheets and a pillow from the closet in the room.

They left her to settle down and walked down the hall, stopping in front of a door, which Stiles pushed open, cringing already - knowing what a mess the storage room was. He stepped over a box or three before reaching the mattresses tucked away against a wall, pulling them out one by one.

“Sorry, these probably have a nice musk to them. You can imagine you’re lying in the arms of a taxidermied bear or something. ” he laughed as he slid the spring mattresses along the floor on their side over to the two boys, whose only reaction was to glance at each other. A signature move of theirs, Stiles observed, letting out a sigh; his sense of humour was an acquired taste which these two apparently didn’t have. Scott would have laughed. Derek would have hidden a smirk behind a face of disgust.

Stiles led them to a room next to the one he and the stable boys share, opening the door to reveal an unused room with some boxes and four metal bedframes propped upright against a wall.

He gestured for the two to enter and went to open a box he knew had candles and set them up in their holders on the wall, lighting them to bring some light into the room.

It was dusty and dark, and the walls were exposed stone, but at least it was private.

Stiles explained to them where they would find sheets and pillows, where the bathroom was, where to go for food etc.

“I’m sleeping in the next room. Come find me in the morning. You can just spend tonight getting settled, get a sense of the surroundings.” Stiles pointed to his left with a thumb as he was walking backwards to the door, intent on leaving the two alone now that they were kind of settled, but was stopped by Mason.

“Hey, uhm. You don’t happen to have any tips for us? Like any particular things we should look out for?”

A broad question.

“Be careful around Peter, he’s a cunt.”

A broad answer.

The door creaked shut and Stiles let out a breath.

He brushed a strand of hair out of his face and started off along the hallway and up the stairs to the ground floor, his steps thudding against the heavy wood of the stairs, as he went to his usual chores.

The next morning he was appointed the mother hen of two waddling ducklings, showing them how he did his chores, how Master Hale liked his trousers folded…

Everything.

Liam was a bad student.

Mason was decent and took direction.

Stiles was a bad teacher.

It was tiring for all three and Stiles was glad when it was time for dinner and he could finally slip away after leading them to the kitchen, where Josephine was collecting a team to polish the floor of the ballroom, and handing his ducklings over to her.

Derek looked tired as all hell when Stiles went to his room with a tray of roast beef dinner.

“Wow. Did you sleep at all last night?” Stiles’ comment was meant to be humorous but it came across more worried.

“How’d you know?” Derek’s left brow twitched upwards weakly, his voice scruffy and dripping in sarcasm.

Stiles grimaced.

“Peter have you doing paperwork all night?” he asked as they settled down to eat.

“Seems like he thinks of me as an accountant.” Derek replied as he picked up the knife and fork. Stiles did the same.

“He’s acting all imperious now. Don’t know if making him angry was the best choice.”

Derek looked at him seriously.

“Perhaps not.”

“But seeing him so affected is worth it.” Stiles smirked at the man and managed his goal: getting the man’s expression to soften.

“How are the newbies doing?”

Stiles sat back and turned his face toward the ceiling, sighing as he chewed on a bit of beef.

“Stressful.” he answered after swallowing, lowering his gaze to his plate. “Liam almost coloured a basin-full of linens pink by washing them with a red shirt, and Mason almost swatted a vase to the floor with a duster.”

Derek let out a breathy chuckle through his nose.

“Can’t wait for them to try polishing glasses. That’s gonna be a mess.” Stiles laughed.

They finished their dinner while telling each other stories of trial and failure. Like when Derek fell out of a tree after being urged to climb to the top by his sister and breaking an arm, and how Stiles had been banned from collecting eggs after he managed to slip and fall onto the basket, crushing all of them and getting his chest and face covered in egg and sand.

That night Stiles fell asleep with the memory of Derek’s smiling face.

 

 

The next few days went by fairly uneventfully, which actually felt nice after the chaos. Liam and Mason were assigned their own tasks and Stiles was left to his own. He spent time with Derek every day when bringing him meals. Stiles ate with him, talking with him about simple things like how the farm was doing, the weather, books, what the maids were gossiping about that day, what trouble Liam had gotten himself into etc. It was still a lot to get used to but Stiles was getting more and more comfortable around the man and used to calling him just Derek rather than master. The conversations flowed fairly freely and Stiles felt comfortable, speaking without holding back too much. It was a bit shocking to Stiles that he tolerated the way he tended to ramble. Many people just got annoyed and shut him up.

It felt good to have those moments to break up the busy days, when he could just sit down and talk about nothing and everything.

Of course, with things being good for a while, the chaos had to return at some point, though it was way too fast for Stiles’ liking.

His mother collapsed.

Someone had found her lying on the floor of a hallway, with a spilled-over basket of laundry next to her, convulsing violently.

“Mom?” Stiles stepped into the room his parents slept in where his mother had been brought to rest.

Her eyes turned to the door and she seemed to recognize her son, smiling tiredly from where she was propped against the pillows under the covers.

“Hey, darling. How are you?”

“I came here to ask _you_ that, mom.” he chuckled sadly and sat next to her on the bed.

“I’m fine now. Just tired. I’ll be good by morning.” she reassured him.

“Are you sure? Should we call dad?”

She shook her head gently at the latter question.

“No, no. He’s busy. He should focus on his job now.”

“Mom…” he tried.

“No, Mieczyslaw. It’s dangerous for him to be distracted. I’m fine now.”

Her using Stiles’ real name always stopped him in his tracks and made him listen. He really couldn’t argue her point on his father. He would probably be so stressed and worried he’d get himself in trouble or even killed.

“You have to be careful, mom.” he reached out to take her hand.

“I am. This just came out of nowhere.” she patted her son’s hand and gave him a smile.

Then it happened.

What always happens.

Her gaze unfocused for a few seconds, before focusing again, and she was confused again.

“Stiles? What are you doing here? Where’s your father?”

She seemed to forget things suddenly, and other times she remembered everything perfectly well.

These moments when her memory wasn’t working were the most painful for Stiles, but he tried to not let it show on his face.

“Just rest, mom. Everything’s okay.”

Suddenly there was a knock on the door and Anna peeked inside.

“Stiles? Sorry, but we really need you.”

He gave another squeeze to his mother’s hand and stood up, following after Anna.

 

 

“Stiles?”

“Huh?” Stiles snapped his gaze up to Derek’s face. They were standing in the doorway to the man’s room, Stiles holding a tray with a coffeepot and cups. Derek looked at him uneasily.

“You okay?” he stepped aside to let Stiles in.

“Yeah, sorry. I’m just a little distracted. I’m fine.” he went to put the tray down.

They both sat down and Stiles poured some coffee for each. Derek picked his up with a ‘thank you’ grunt, Stiles poured some cream into his before lifting the cup up to his lips and taking a careful sip.

“My mom’s just not feeling well…”

“She okay?”

“She collapsed today. I don’t really know what’s going on and… it’s scary.” Stiles sighed. “There’s so much stuff going on that I don’t understand and I’m… kinda scared.” he laughed, kind of embarrassed.

His mother, the possibility of arson, that thing in the woods, new people in the house… It was all almost too much.

Derek frowned.

“I’m sorry…”

“No, it’s not your fault.”   _At least_ _consciously._

An emotion Stiles couldn’t really decipher flashed across the man’s face but he didn’t say anything.

“So, how has your day been?” Stiles wanted to desperately change the topic.

Derek put the cup down. “Peter is unbearable.”

“Not great, then?” he laughed.

The man grunted in response.

“Well, the banquet is tomorrow. Things will hopefully calm down after that.”

“Hopefully. Hopefully that’ll make him forget about punishing me for that trick we pulled on him.” the memory of it making the man’s lips twitch upwards. Stiles chuckled along.

Suddenly Stiles had an idea. “You should set up your own office. That way you don’t have to be in Peter’s all the time.”

Derek lifted his brows at him, thinking it over. “I should.”

“There’s the burgundy sitting room that hasn’t been used in a long time. You’d probably be able to convince Peter to let you have it turned into an office. And it’s out of the way, so you wouldn’t be bothered much.” Stiles noticed he started rambling a bit and shut himself up.

“Sounds good.”

Stiles finished what little was left in his cup and placed it back on the tray.

“I should get back, there’s still a lot to do.”

“Of course. See you for dinner?”

Stiles nodded and smiled as he left and went to take the tray to the kitchen before going to the formal dining room where Marilyn and Erica were polishing wineglasses. Liam and Mason were also there, the girls eyeing them warily, seemingly waiting for one of them to break a glass at any moment.

The room was twice the size of the regular dining room that the Hales, mostly just Peter, ate in. It had huge arched windows and crystal chandleries that lit the whole room with electric light hanging from the high ceiling, the light gleaming off the rows of wineglasses, silverware and expensive china set out on the table and the polished ornate wooden panelling on the walls.

Stiles grabbed a cloth and a glass and got to work, sitting down opposite the girls, next to Liam.

“So, Stiles… Have you heard who’s coming tomorrow?” Erica wiggled her brows at him.

Stiles frowned, not knowing what the other was getting at. “No? Who?”

“Oh, I heard a little birdie say someone you know is coming…” she trailed off mischievously.

He rolled his eyes at her. “Just get to the point.”

“Lydia! Lydia Martin and her family are coming.” she exclaimed in frustration.

Liam and Mason both snapped their gazes up, eyed each other and then Stiles.

“You know Lydia?” Liam asked. Stiles looked to them and nodded nonchalantly. It wasn’t impossible to think, since the Martins and Hales were long-time business partners.

“Who is she?” Marilyn asked quietly, eyeing the both of them cautiously. Stiles could tell that she was being punished and belittled by Peter on a daily basis, she was so timid and scared. The poor girl was basically Peter’s personal servant, always ordered around. The memory of the sound of the slap Peter had delivered to her face had Stiles’ expression twitch into a frown for a moment.

“Just a little someone Stiles is totally in love with.” she grinned pompously.

Marilyn’s eyes widened in shock.

“Am not.”

“Yes you are! You told basically everyone, remember. Don’t try and hide it.” her smile didn’t waver a bit.

The other three in the room followed their bickering in silence.

Stiles sighed, exasperated. “I was twelve, Erica, I don’t like her like that anymore. It was just a crush anyway.”

“Sure, keep telling yourself that.” Erica was seemingly not changing her mind no matter what Stiles said to her, so he decided to just let the subject be. They worked in silence for about a minute.

“So you’re still hanging out with Derek?” Erica asked him, not lifting her gaze from her hands as she worked.

“Yeah.” 

“He’s been okay? Nothing shady?”

“No, nothing. He’s… pretty great, actually.” a small smile crept up to his face without him noticing it.

“Oh no…” she stared at him with wide eyes.

“What?”

“You like him.” she nodded in agreement with herself.

“What?” he repeated, dumbfounded.

“You like him.” she said more sure of her words this time.

“I like his company.” he deflected her. How had she figured it out? He hadn’t even figured it out completely himself.

“No, you _like him_ like him.” she was getting excited now.

“I don’t. I… He’s just nice to me and…” he tried but she cut him off.

“Oh no you don’t. You’re not fooling me. You’re always so happy to go to him, always have that gross sappy smile on your face. Don’t think I don’t see you.” she pointed a finger at him, smirking.

“First you think I’m in love with Lydia and now you’re accusing me of liking Derek!”

“Okay, maybe I was wrong about Lydia,” she admitted shrugging her shoulders “but this I’m sure about! Even if you don’t want to admit it, you like him, you horny bastard.” she winked at him and went back to work.

Stiles just stared at her, astonished.

“You are unbelievable.”

“Thanks!” she shot him a bright smile.


	9. Fuck

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at me, being on schedule.
> 
>  
> 
> here's some garbage:

Stiles woke to the usual pounding at the door and got ready quickly. The three stable boys wished him luck in sleepy voices when he left their shared bedroom. They were getting off easy, not needing to be ordered around the whole day by Master Hale and his guests.

Stiles once again wished he could work with them instead.

On his way to the kitchen he stopped by the room Liam and Mason shared and they went together, Liam dragging his feet and complaining about being sleepy the whole way. They had a quick breakfast with the other maids in the bustling kitchen before Josephine shooed them all off to finish setting up the formal dining room and the sitting rooms guests would be allowed to mingle in.

It was a busy morning for all of them even.

The banquet was set to begin at three o’clock, so after a small lunch Stiles hurried off to change into formal wear. The outfit didn’t differ from his daily uniform too much, he just added a tailored vest, polished shoes and a black cravat tied on in a very particular way Master Hale liked. He quickly fixed his hair in the mirror, shoving his bangs back and to the side so they were out of his face.

He needed to help Derek into his suit so he went to grab it from where he’d stored it last night after meticulously ironing out any wrinkles. The tailor, Mr. Moore, really hadn’t been too happy to be asked to hurry and finish the suit, but despite his grumbling it had arrived in time. It was a very nice three-piece suit, the dark, slightly shiny fabric had a muted, dark grey pinstripe pattern, the shirt underneath a crisp white with a traditional upturned and winged collar. The tailor had sent a black tie to go with it and Stiles grabbed that as well as the just polished shoes.

Derek was there to open the door for him as usual, though this time he wasn’t dressed. He had a towel wrapped around his waist, his hair still wet, dripping water onto his shoulders and further down. Stiles didn’t want to admit that his eyes followed the path of the glittering droplets down the man’s torso a bit too far.

“I’ve, uh, come to dress you.” Stiles chuckled a bit nervously, forcing his gaze to focus on the other’s eyes.

Derek let him in and took the slacks and shirt he was offered before retreating to the bathroom. The man’s silence didn’t bother Stiles, it was familiar and kind of comforting. No unnecessary words. No syrupy, manipulative words with hidden insults.

Derek was not like his uncle at all.

Derek was genuine.

Too forward sometimes, sure, harsh maybe, but genuine.

Stiles smiled to himself as he laid the shoes down next to the bed and the tie on top of it. He raised the hanger the vest and suit jacket hung from and scanned over both items to make sure nothing was amiss. He did find a hair stuck to the left sleeve and picked it off.

The bathroom door opened and Derek stepped out, wearing the fairly formfitting slacks. He was still in the process of buttoning the shirt up and Stiles ogled at his chest, which was covered in coarse, dark hair, more hair than Stiles had ever seen on anyone before, though he didn’t have many to compare it to.

Comparing himself to this marble statue of a man… He didn’t even think it.

_Control yourself, you idiot!_ Stiles gathered his scattered thoughts and focused on getting the vest off the hanger.

“Here.” he handed it over to the man when he’d finished buttoning his shirt, the man taking it and pulling it on, buttoning the three large buttons in the front.

Derek then sat on the bed and started pulling his shoes on.

“How are you feeling?” Stiles fidgeted a bit, nervous for some reason. Or maybe not nervous, just, fidgety.

“I’m fine. Just wanna get this over with.” He tied the laces and tucked them into the shoes for a neater look.

“Yeah, me too.” Stiles chuckled.

“Hopefully Peter won’t prolong this longer than it needs to be.” Derek stood up and Stiles held up the jacket so that he could slip his arms into the sleeves easily. Stiles moved to his front, going to fix the sleeves before remembering something.

“Oh yeah!” he pulled a little box he’d been given by Josephine out of his pocket. “I was told to give you these.” He opened it to reveal cufflinks with the Hale family crest on them. He stared at the silhouette of a wolf’s head carved into the silver for a second in wonder, a thought creeping into the back of his mind, before handing the box over and going to grab the tie from the bed. He waited as Derek fixed the cufflinks into place before going back over.

He fixed the collar of the shirt and slipped the tie around the man’s neck and measured the length of the sides by eye before going to tie it. His practised fingers working almost from muscle memory to tie the complicated knot, slightly brushing on the man’s neck.

Stiles felt the hot skin against his and was flooded with uncontrollable thoughts of skin against skin, of sliding his palms up the thick neck, up to scratchy cheeks, of his lips on the other’s, bodies closing together…

Before he realized what he was doing he was pulling the taller man down to his level by the tie, closing his eyes, tilting his head to the side and forward, pressing his lips gently onto the others stiff, surprised ones.

He held their position for a second and then, when his mind caught up with his actions, his eyes snapped open and he shoved Derek away frantically.

_Fuck._

“I’m so sorry! I don’t know what I was thinking.” he backed away until his back hit the dresser “I’m sorry, master Derek.” he practically ran out of the room, too scared to wait for the other to react.

He ran all the way down to the servants’ bathroom and locked the door.

“Fuck me…” he whispered to himself in disbelief “What the fuck did I do? Why? Why did I do that?” he leaned on the wall and slid down to the floor, leaning his elbows on his propped up knees. “What the fuck do I do now…” he really wanted to cry.

His eyes burned, but tears didn’t fall.

He’d totally assaulted the poor guy.

_God… He’s gonna hate me now…_

_He won’t ever speak a fucking word to me._

_Fuck._

_Fuck!_

He spent a good ten minutes just breathing, trying to calm himself down.

Finally he gathered himself up off of the floor, splashed his face with cold water, took a deep breath and went to look for Josephine to ask her what he should do.

He avoided looking in the mirror on the way out to find Josephine.

The housekeeper was a little confused as to why he was there, since he was supposed to still be helping Derek, but instructed him to go dust the parlour when he asked to be given some other task to do.

He dragged out the dusting as much as he physically could, and was finally called to the foyer to receive guests with a tray of drinks, Erica at his side. Marilyn and Anna were taking the guests coats and putting them away. Stiles did not envy them, they had to remember what coat every guest was wearing to be able to give them back to them at the end of the night.

He’d done that once, messed up and forgot which coat was whose, and gotten smacked across the face by a furious Peter. He was never given that job again.

Peter and Derek were stood in the middle of the foyer, Peter with a charming smile plastered on his face, Derek looking as unamused as usual, chatting to each other in between guests arriving.

Stiles avoided looking at Derek, afraid to make eye contact.

“What’s going on?” Erica leaned toward his ear to whisper the question as quietly as possible after a gentleman with an absurdly long beard had picked up a drink for himself and his chubby wife, and moved further into the house.

Stiles gave her a confused look, not wanting to speak unless necessary.

“You’re being pretty obvious. Something happened right?”

“We’re supposed to be quiet…” he whispered back to her. He really didn’t wanna think about it, let alone talk about it.

“You’re deflecting again. Just tell me what…”

The door opened again, cutting her off, much to Stiles’ relief.

He had managed to keep her quiet for about fifteen minutes when the door opened and the Martin family waltzed in.

Erica thankfully just shot a knowing look at him and didn’t say anything.

Lydia looked over her surroundings in her usual judgemental way before turning to Peter to shake his hand after her parents were done, her practised charming smile matching Peter’s, but there wasn’t the same type of sadistic flare in her eyes.

“And Lydia, nice to see you again. You’ve grown into a young woman.” he smiled sickeningly sweetly.

“Nice to see you too, Peter.” she answered, ignoring the comment.

She walked towards where her parents were picking up their drinks from Stiles and Erica, her smile turning a bit more genuine as she laid her eyes on him.

“Hello, Stiles. It’s been awhile.” her voice was low enough so only the two of them, and Erica, could hear. She picked up a glass in her delicate hand. Her hair was styled in an elaborate updo, her long dress a shade of light green.

“Nice to see you too.” he gave her a little smile as she left. It was true that he’d had a crush on her a while back, but now he liked to think they were almost friends. They were the same age so they’d played together whenever she accompanied her parents to the farm on business, and as they aged the playing turned to talking. He had never told Lydia about his crush on her. They’d never kissed.

The kiss.

His face flushed burning red at the memory.

He made the mistake of glancing over to where Peter and Derek were stood and saw Derek glowering at him. The man looked furious. He avoided his gaze quickly.

_He does hate me._

He bit his lip.

It took almost an hour of just standing in the cooling foyer, the cold winter air coming in a little more each time the door was opened. When they were finally done and all the quests had gathered into the ballroom, they were sent to the kitchen to pick up appetizer trays and sent to wander around the crowd.

Peter and Derek had disappeared somewhere into the mass of thirty-something people and Stiles relaxed a little.

“Stiles, over here.” Lydia called out to him a few feet away and he approached her.

“Can I interest you in a salmon cake?” Stiles put on a humorous act of the perfect servant, though his too-genuine smile broke through the character.

“I’m saving room for dessert, but thank you.” Lydia chuckled at him.

“So how have you been?” Stiles held the tray with one hand, letting passer-by’s take what they wanted.

Lydia flipped a curl of strawberry-blonde hair over her shoulder and sighed.

“Father is having trouble with letting go of his authority over me. I’m a much smarter negotiator than him, but he won’t let me take over. Guess his ego can’t take it.” she rolled her eyes.

“You are probably the slickest person I know, he should see that too.”

“Probably?” she pried.

“Definitely the slickest. And smartest, and prettiest, and… what else did you want to be complimented on?”

Stiles laughed when Lydia shoved at his shoulder gently.

“So, tell me what the deal with the nephew is. Anything I should know? Anything juicy?” she leaned closer to him, lowering her voice, a smile stretching her lips.

“He’s not much of a talker, can be kind of rude and standoffish, but he’s a nice man at heart.” Stiles switched the tray over to his other hand. He didn’t mention what happened between them, didn’t want to think about it.

“Hmm. A ‘straight to the point’ kind of man? I can respect that.” she nodded, her expression calm but Stiles could tell the cogs were turning in her head.

“Honoured guests!” Peter’s voice boomed over the chatter “Let us move to the dining room.” he went first through the arched doorways to the dining room, making his way to the head of the table.

“Gotta go. Talk to you later.” Lydia leaned in to feign a kiss to his cheek and wiggled her fingers in a wave as she went to find her parents to join them at the table.

Stiles noticed a few guests looking at him weirdly as he made his way to the kitchen where he knew he was needed to serve the food to the table.

They were all organized into a line, everyone with two plates, before being ushered into the dining room by Josephine. They waited until everyone was in position before all lowering the plates on the table at the same time, before swiftly exiting the room. Stiles controlled his gaze, keeping it lowered to avoid accidentally looking at the one person he wanted to avoid.

They had a bit of free time as the chefs and their helpers started plating the next course. Erica took the opportunity to pull him aside.

“Seriously, what’s going on?” Erica’s determined attempt to get the truth out of him was almost admirable, though it was stressing him out even more.

“I’ll tell you, ok? Later.” he answered, mostly to keep her at bay.

She huffed: “Fine.” and left him alone.

Stiles took a deep breath before going back to his duties.

The meal had four courses in total, and after they cleared the dessert plates from the table, the guests were left to roam and mingle.

Stiles was given a break after they wiped the long tables and he couldn’t be more relieved. He decided to go downstairs to his room, away from the hustle of the party.

He relished in the quiet of the hallway leading to the servants’ rooms, allowing himself to relax.

He yelped when he opened the door to his shared room and Derek was standing in the middle of it, looking at him.

“God! You gotta stop scaring me like that.” he laughed, trying to not sound too awkward. “Uhh… What are you doing here? The party’s upstairs.”

“Had to get way. There’s too many people.” Derek sounded normal, which surprised Stiles. He thought the man would be angry and growling at him by now.

“Same.” still laughing, hoping that would cover up the uncertainness in his voice. “This is a good hiding spot, nice pick…” He started to back away to the still open door.

“Stay.”

_Oh no._

“Okay, sure.” Stiles’ voice was way too high pitched. He closed the door behind him and contained himself in a room with a man he knew was mad at him.

He cleared his throat, not moving to sit down. “So, what do you think of the party so far? Made a good impression on the guests? Must be rough having to shake so many hands. Did you know that the handshake actually originates from…?”

“Stiles.” Derek interrupted him, sounding slightly annoyed. “I wanted to talk to you.”

_Oh no._

Stiles was not about to have this conversation.

“No, I… think I really have to go back.” He just wanted to get out of there. “I have to go.”

He practically ran off.

For the second time that day.


	10. Full Moon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> strap in boys and girls

A heavy sigh left Stiles’ lips.

He was sat at the table in the kitchen, having dinner with Scott, Erica and Mason.

“Just spit it out.” Erica urged him.

“What do you mean?” Stiles played stupid, though he knew that never worked with her.

“You’ve been sighing for ten minutes straight, you practically forced Mason to take over your duties of feeding Derek, and you’ve been avoiding the man for two whole days. What is it?”

_Nothing;_ he wanted to say, but held his tongue – he didn’t want to talk about it – instead he shoved a spoonful of stew into his mouth.

“Spill it out already!” she huffed.

Still he held his silence

“Come on, man. You’re making us worried.” It was Scott now, taking full advantage of Stiles’ weakness for his puppy eyes.

Dammit…

He couldn’t not answer after that.

“I fucked up, and now Derek hates me, so I’m avoiding him for both our sakes.” he answered quickly, trying to make it sound as light as possible.

“What happened?” Mason turned to him now, concerned.

Another deep sigh.

“I kissed him. He didn’t reciprocate. I ran away.” he didn’t lift his gaze from the bowl in front of him.

Shocked silence dragged along for a few moments.

“What the fuck?” Erica almost shrieked.

Stiles avoided her and instead looked to Scott, at his perplexed expression.

“It’s nothing. It was stupid.” Stiles shook his head in shame.

“It’s not nothing!” Scott argued.

“It is stupid!”

No one disagreed with Stiles there.

“Derek has been looking kind of down lately…” Erica wondered aloud.

“His whole fucking family died, he’s been down for a long time.” Stiles countered.

“He was happy with you around.”

“That’s just- ” he tried to argue again but she interrupted him.

“Don’t think you know what’s going on in his head, you’re not a psychic.”

Stiles chuckled at that. “If only…”

“Just talk to the poor guy. He’s taking his frustrations out on us.”

Stiles couldn’t argue with that. Derek had been more agitated the past two days, but in Stiles’ mind that was because of his previous actions, not his absence.

Now Stiles was frustrated too.

He didn’t want to confront Derek. He didn’t want to even think about him, as he was always overwhelmed with shame and regret and longing every time he did. He was fine with avoiding the man the rest of eternity.

Or not. Not really fine at all. He wanted things to be good between them. He wanted things to have worked out the way he’d hoped. He wanted Derek to have kissed him back. He wanted to not have to be away from him like this.

But that’s not how things were.

And not how they were going to be.

Though this situation was unacceptable.

But changing things was going to be hard.

Stiles wanted to turn his thoughts to something else for a change. He’d been sinking in a pit of thoughts of Derek and shame, drowning in it.

Fortunately there was something else to think about.

Something that was almost as intriguing to him as the man his thoughts often turned to.

For a while he’d been able to not think about it, as he had been busy with his duties, -with Derek. He hadn’t left the house since the last time he’d seen it.

The werewolf.

That night he gets a reminder of its existence.

A distant howling cuts through the usual silence of the manor and surrounding woods.

Stiles was scrubbing a stain left by a cup on the coffee table in one of the many sitting rooms when he heard it.

That wasn’t a dog or a normal wolf.

The sound was almost demonic.

He left the cloth he’d been using on the table and picked up his trusty oil lamp before rushing out of the room.

This time he wouldn’t be unprepared.

He silently sneaked into the room he shared with the stable boys – all three of them sleeping in their respective beds – and opened his trunk, shifting things around until he got to the bottom and found what he was looking for; the gun his father had given him years ago. He never thought he’d have use for it but now was glad he had it.

He picked the revolver up and checked that it was loaded and that the safety was on. He grabbed his coat before closing the trunk and put it on, placing the revolver in the right pocket and buttoned it up the whole way before grabbing the lamp again and heading off.

His breath turned to steam in the cold air, his quick steps squeaking in the snow. He looked around to make sure the guards were nowhere to be seen before making his way to the ruins again.

There they lay, the same as the day the fire finally went out, only now covered in a thick layer of snow.

Stiles looked up and saw the sky was clear, the stars shining brightly, grabbing his attention, and a memory of his mother teaching him the names of the patterns they formed almost brought a smile to his face. He turned his gaze in search of the moon, and found it shining full, tranquil.

He felt calm, which was odd considering he was standing out in the open, knowing a beast that had killed several people was wandering the woods around him.

He turned towards the trees. He couldn’t see the spot he and Scott had entered the woods last time, but guessed where it was approximately and headed toward the darkness, letting it swallow him.

He was glad the bodies had been taken away, since now he didn’t have to worry about coming into close contact with a corpse again.

At least that would be the case if the wolf hadn’t killed again.

As he stepped between the first of the trees, he took the gun out of his pocket and turned the safety off. He kept it pointed away from him with his finger off the trigger like his father had told him to do. He hadn’t had time to teach him much else, but Stiles had practiced a few times by himself, shooting at trees behind the stables.

That was a while ago and he only hit the tree less than half the time, but it was better than not having a gun at all.

He’d make do.

Like he’d read, he should be able to talk to it, so maybe he wouldn’t need the gun at all.

He really hoped that was true.

The trees protected him from the lashing wind as he got deeper into the forest, his hands not as frozen, his face not stinging as much.

It was quiet for a long time, but he didn’t give up the search.

And good thing he didn’t, as he heard the snow crunching somewhere to his left. He quickened his steps as he followed the sound, wading through the trees in the deep snow.

He thought he saw a shadow moving behind the trees, but something else stole his focus.

Something was coming towards him from behind.

Something big.

He whipped around to see the glowing eyes and imposing form of a werewolf emerging from the darkness, into the light of the clattering lamp.

He’d found what he was looking for.

_Here goes nothing…_

“There you are…” his voice was shaky, “I was looking for you. Remember me?”

The wolf slowed down and started to circle the boy slowly, seemingly assessing him.

“I’m just hoping you understand me… You’re human right? Under all that?” Stiles held the gun at his side pointed to the ground, not wanting to provoke it.

It huffed out a breath.

“Was that a yes?” he hoped. “I don’t want any trouble, I just… I’m curious, I guess. And stupid. Really fucking stupid.” he laughed.

The beast didn’t seem to find that funny.

Instead it stalked towards him.

“Uhm… I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t mutilate me.” Stiles took slow steps back, trying to keep the space between him and the beast from decreasing. “I very much like having my arms and legs attached to my torso.”

It stopped.

Stiles did too.

They stared at each other for a while. Stiles hoped he’d gotten through to the human part of the monster before him.

He was wrong.

The beast leaped at him, its claws shining in the light.

“Oh fuck!” Stiles dodged to the side, throwing himself into the snow and clambering up before the thing got its footing back. And he found himself running from a werewolf yet again.

“Oh fuck me…” he panted. There was no way he could outrun it and he probably wouldn’t get as lucky as last time.

He sprinted off to the side, hoping that the bigger creature couldn’t change directions as quickly, getting further away from it.

It worked, for a while.

He tried to desperately pick up speed while distractedly glancing back to see the thing getting closer and closer.

And misstepped, twisting his ankle, smacked right into a tree, hitting his head and scarping his cheek on the rough bark, the force sending him crashing down into the snow. His face scrunched up in pain.

He whipped his head toward the werewolf, trying to find the gun he dropped when he fell. He didn’t have time to find it though, as something even bigger slammed into the monster, snarling and growling, slamming it to the ground.

Another werewolf.

The lamp lay leaning against the tree Stiles had collided with and shone light into the forest, despite that he couldn’t see what the two were doing beyond light’s reach. He could only hear loud growling and a roar that shook him to the core, raising goose bumps along his neck and arms, he could feel the sound resonating with the ground, making the lamp clatter, could feel the air vibrating in his lungs with the force of it.

After that it grew quiet and he could hear one of them whining and then retreating steps, like it was running away.

The other approached him, slowly coming into the light. He could now see that this was the one he’d met before and the other one was someone different. He’d thought the first one looked kind of off, smaller, than what he remembered, but hadn’t thought too much into it, the memory all kinds of hazy and filled with adrenaline and terror.

Stiles finally grabbed the gun, which he’d found while the wolves were fighting, again, now pointing it at the one approaching him, his arm shaky.

“You probably don’t understand me either, huh?”

The thing stopped and just stared at him, its eyes piercing.

“Or do you?” Stiles thought he could see something in the beast’s eyes, something intelligent in the way they studied him.

“You’re human, right?” he repeated the question, still panting hard from running, gun still pointed at it.

Its head tilted to the side and it took a step forward, hesitatingly approaching him.

Then everything changed in a split second.

Its eyes turned cold and it charged at him, growling.

Stiles panicked and fired, twice, hitting it in the shoulder, the other going past it, his breath shuddering.

But it didn’t go for him, it leaped over him. It landed and the roar it let out was enraged, louder, angrier, making the smaller wolf – Stiles could now see had been lurking behind him – whimper and scamper off with its head bowed.

The bigger wolf let out a breath.

It stood there for a while before something started happening.

It was… changing, shrinking, its hair was disappearing, turning into human skin, limbs shortening, claws retracting.

It stood upright.

It stood there a human.

A human Stiles recognized.

He turned around and Stiles could see his face, could see the wound on his left shoulder, skin ripped open by a bullet, the hole gaping, dark, bleeding, blood trickling down his arm, down his fingers and dripping into the snow, staining it crimson.

“Derek?” his voice was barely a whisper.

“Are you okay?” the familiar voice spoke though the man didn’t move from his spot, about five feet away. His chest was steadily rising and falling, his breath flowing out in steamy puffs.

“You… You’re the… You’re a…” The words didn’t come out, Stiles’ mind in shambles, his whole body was shaking – from the cold or in terror, he didn’t know anymore.

“Werewolf.” he completed the thought for Stiles, who just nodded. “Are you okay?” he asked again, tone more intent this time, more confident.

“Uhm… I twisted my ankle.” he tried moving it and hissed in pain, before coming to a realization. “I fucking shot you, oh my god.” He went to stand up using his good foot but paused. “Did you… Kill Henry and James?” he asked warily, not sure if he could trust Derek after this new revelation. Of him being a _fucking shapeshifting mythical creature._

A wave of confusion washed over Derek’s face. “The guards?” When Stiles nodded he answered confidently: “I didn’t.”

The man’s answer calmed Stiles’ heart down a bit.

“Okay…” he was speechless for a second as he stood up after pocketing the weapon, leaning against the tree he’d previously run into. “We… We have to get you help. We have to…” Stiles’ words trailed off as he observed the man standing before him. “You’re naked.”

“I am.” he answered plainly. “And it’s fine, I’ll heal after I get the bullet out.” he gestured to his left shoulder.

“You’re bleeding pretty bad…” Stiles pulled at the cravat on his neck, deciding to ignore the ‘naked’ part of the situation, and motioned for Derek to approach, which he did, slowly, tentatively.

“Here.” Stiles wrapped the white cloth around the man’s arm and over his shoulder, covering the bleeding wound, and tying it tight to hopefully lessen the bleeding. Derek didn’t seem too keen on letting him do it, but didn’t protest.

“You’re… Taking this kind of easy.” the man wondered.

“I’m just focusing on not freaking out right now. Don’t have the time.” he answered as he finished the knot. “I will later though, definitely.” He shifted on his feet and almost fell over trying to put weight on his left ankle. Derek’s hands shot out to steady him.

“We should get inside.” the man’s voice was steady and low.

“Yeah we should. You’re gonna freeze your dick off.” _…which would be a shame_

“Can you walk?” The man ignored Stiles’ crude comment.

“Uh, no. Absolutely not.” he answered after trying and almost falling again, letting out a wail at the pain shooting through his ankle, up his calf.

Derek turned and lowered down to let Stiles climb onto his back. “Here.” The boy hesitated for a second before wrapping his arms around his thick shoulders and letting him grab onto the backs of his thighs as he stood up.

The pace at which Derek ran was astonishing to Stiles. It seemed the man felt no strain at carrying him on his back, his shoulder shot and bleeding, and his dick hanging out in the freezing cold.

‘You really aren’t human.’ Is what Stiles almost said, but decided that it would be rather insensitive.

They arrived at the house in no time, Derek seemingly knowing exactly how to navigate the woods.

“You hang out in the dark forest a lot?”

“Sometimes. Today I came after I heard the howling. Figures you were there too.”

“I was just curious…”

“You were almost killed.” he chastised the boy.

“But I wasn’t. Plus, I had a gun with me.”

“Normal bullets have little effect on werewolves. You would’ve died if I weren’t there.”

“Well good thing you were then. Thanks.” Stiles thought for a second before saying: “Guess you don’t hate me enough to watch me get mauled.” he laughed to hide the seriousness of that statement.

“I don’t hate you.” came a genuine response.

Derek went in through the back door and paused to listen in the hallway, to make sure they were alone, before going to the stairs and taking Stiles up to his room on the second floor, closing the door using his foot.

He let Stiles down next to the chair he usually sat in when they ate together, and made sure that the boy was sitting comfortably before going to the closet and pulling on a pair of pants.

“I’m gonna go get some supplies, just wait there.”

“Like I could go anywhere if I wanted to…” Stiles answered to the closed door Derek had just gone through.

The silence gave him time to think.

And the more he thought the more things made sense. And the more he questioned his own sanity, surely he had gone insane. It was all insane but so coherent at the same time.

Derek didn’t want him going to the woods. The wolf that had left him alone had been Derek. The wolf they’d met today probably was the one that ripped the guards apart.

Derek returned with long nose pliers, gauze and a chunk of ice wrapped in a towel. He handed the ice to Stiles, placing the other things down while he pulled the other chair over and helped Stiles prop his leg onto it, gently tugging his shoe off, placing the ice on the swollen ankle.

He grabbed the gauze and went to clean the blood off of the scrapes on the boy’s face when his hand was grabbed.

“The fucking bullet is a bit more important than a scratch, don’t you think?”

“I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not.” Stiles insisted. “There’s a damn bulled in your shoulder!”

Derek sighed and gave in.

He sat down on the bed and grabbed the pliers. He pulled open the knot and revealed the hole in his shoulder, the bleeding increasing the second the pressure lessened. He gently inserted the pliers into the wound and started digging around for the bullet, his face scrunching up in pain, though his movements seemed sure, like he’d done something similar before.

“Who taught you to shoot?” he gritted out as he worked.

“No one.”

“I could tell.”

“Hey!” Stiles laughed at the insult as he was removing his other shoe too.

“I’ll teach you when you can walk again.”

Stiles didn’t know how to answer so he didn’t, just nodded and averted his gaze.

Derek let out a grunt as he finally got hold of the bullet and started pulling it out. A spurt of blood followed it, and then, right in front of Stiles’ eyes, the wound just closed by itself, the skin stained with blood but with no other evidence there had been a gaping bullet hole.

“That’s so freaky…” he breathed out without thinking.

Derek chuckled as he wiped the blood away with a damp towel.

“I guess it is, huh.”

“All of this really…” Stiles gestured to Derek. “Werewolves exist… I’m talking to one right now. I feel like I’m going crazy.” he laughed in disbelief.

“I assure you, this is very real.”

“I have so many questions…”

“I’m sure you do, but you should get some sleep. I’ll answer anything you want to know tomorrow.”

“You think I can sleep now?” Stiles’ eyes widened in bafflement.

“Well, I’m hoping you’ll try.” he sounded so genuine and concerned that it made Stiles’ heart tingle.

“Okay…”

“Should I take you down to your bed? Or I could take you to a guest room across the hall?”

Stiles appreciated that he was given the option to get away from Derek, but honestly he wasn’t scared of him, not really. Whether it was because he truly had lost his mind or that he trusted the man, he didn’t care at that point.

“A soft bed would be nice, to be honest.”

“Okay. Mind if I carry you?”

Stiles gave permission and Derek lifted him up bridal style, taking him across the hall into a dark room and laid him down on the bed.

After Stiles got settled in beneath the covers and Derek was happy with how he’d tucked the blankets over him, he was left alone.

Surprisingly, sleep didn’t evade him; the exhaustion from the day catching up to him quickly.


	11. Werewolf

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and the story continues

Stiles woke up to a knock on the door and it took him a second to realize where he was and why his ankle was throbbing in pain.

“Stiles?” a familiar voice called from behind the door.

“Come in.” he answered, his voice scratchy from sleep.

Scott pushed the door open carrying a tray of breakfast, which he set down on the bedside table.

“Derek sent me, told me you hurt yourself, what happened?”

Stiles scooted up the bed, pulling the pillow up with him and positioning it behind his back so he could comfortably lean against the ornate wooden headboard.

“I was in the woods last night.” he answered nonchalantly.

“What?!”

“Uhm…” Stiles listened for any sounds that would indicate someone was within hearing distance before continuing: "I saw the beast, the werewolf. It came at me and I fell and probably broke my ankle.” He explained expressively and pulled the covers away to reveal his left foot. He was still wearing his uniform – which hadn’t been the most comfortable thing to sleep in – and he was very much looking forward to a warm bath, the chill of last night still not gone from his bones.

Scott observed the angrily red and swollen ankle with his eyebrows close to touching his hairline.

“How did you get away?” he sounded absolutely baffled.

Stiles wasn’t sure what to answer. He didn’t want to lie to his best friend, but what the hell was he supposed to tell him? ‘Oh yeah, Derek, the guy I’m basically in love with, is a fucking werewolf and I shot him and he kind of growled at the _other_ wolf until it practically pissed itself and left.’

No way.

“Derek shot at it and it ran away.” is what he decided to go with, which, actually, was much more realistic than the truth.

“Why was he there?”

“Didn’t you hear that growling last night?”

Scott furrowed his brows. “I was asleep.”

“Oh… duh.” Stiles laughed at himself.

“Are things cool with you two now?”

Stiles made a face. “I don’t know, honestly… He said he doesn’t hate me and he was nice to me last night, carried me out of the woods on his goddamn back.” he chuckled.

“Seems you misinterpreted something then?”

“I don’t know… Maybe I did? I don’t want to have my hopes up. He probably just wants to remain friends.” he picked at the pills on the duvet on his lap absent-mindedly.

“So you admit you’re friends then?” Scott perked up.

Stiles sighed in frustration. “God, Scott…”

“What?” the other boy laughed before switching gears. He knew pushing his friend on the subject wouldn’t do any good right now. Besides, there were more pressing matters at hand. “Anyway, tell me everything. What happened out there?”

Stiles described the encounter as he ate, in as much detail as he could without revealing Derek’s secret, at Scott’s request, the other boy listening keenly, his eyes shining in amazement.

A knock at the door came maybe half an hour later when Stiles had finished his breakfast and him and Scott were back at their usual banter, having gone over whatever details Stiles had been willing to share about his experience.

Stiles called for whoever it was to enter, and Derek opened the door, an elderly man wearing a white coat at his heel. Both of them entered the room.

Stiles offered Derek a nod and a small upward twitch of his lips, and to the older man he gave a sarcastic smile.

“Good to see you again Doctor Atwood.”

“Stilinski.” the man acknowledged him. “Seems every time we see each other you look worse for wear.”

Stiles laughed at that. “I try my best.”

Scott excused himself and took the tray with him as he left the room.

Derek positioned himself in a corner of the room, leaving as much space between himself and Stiles as possible without it looking weird, leaving a clear route to the door from the bed. Clearly he thought the boy would be afraid of him after what happened. Perhaps Stiles should be scared of him, but for some reason he wasn’t.

“Alright then, son. Let’s take a look at that foot then.” The doctor walked over to the bed and started his examination.

It took about fifteen minutes, but the ankle was determined to not be broken, only sprained, and he hadn’t suffered a concussion from hitting his head. The scrapes on his face were cleaned with hydrogen peroxide, which made Stiles’ eyes water, and the doctor left supplies for bandaging the ankle tightly to fight the swelling and to provide support for the loosened joint, to be applied after a bath to avoid getting the wrappings wet.

The doctor gathered his things and excused himself from the room, leaving Stiles sat in the bed and Derek brooding in the corner.

Silence.

Stiles cleared his throat.

“So uh… I should probably be getting in that bath then.” he made to get up, pushing himself up using his arms

“Stay there.” the man told him in his usual monotone voice.

Stiles froze in place as the man went into the bathroom and he could hear the tap turning on and the tub filling. For a while that was the only sound he heard. Derek emerged later holding a towel and handed it over to him.

“Take off your clothes.”

_Not the context I wanted to hear that in, but I’ll take it._

He laid the towel on the bed next to him and started unbuttoning his shirt, glancing over at Derek, who re-entered the bathroom, to set up supplies for bathing but mostly to give the boy some much appreciated privacy.

Stiles blushed as he tugged at his trousers and underwear, pulling them down as fast as possible – which wasn’t very fast with the injury he had – and covered himself with the towel just as the sound of the tap shut off and the man stepped into the room and approached him.

The heat from Stiles’ cheeks didn’t dissipate as he thought of the situation they were in. Derek was seeing him shirtless, basically naked, and Stiles wasn’t the most confident about his body. Yes he was pretty toned from working all day, but the work didn’t involve too much heavy lifting so the muscles he did have were lean, his stomach was flat, not an ab in sight, his arms he thought were too bony… He could go on and on comparing himself to the body he’d seen last night, but he shut out that train of thought to prevent it from consuming him.

One things was for certain; Stiles was not about to let the man carry him while he was naked, so he spoke up before he had the chance to get too close: “If you hold on to me I think I can limp over.”

The man nodded in response and reached out his arm to help Stiles up.

Stiles held on to the white fluffy towel he had wrapped around his waist and held onto the crook of Derek’s arm with the other, the man providing an unfaltering support. Stiles felt he could grab onto that bicep and hang from it with his whole weight and still that tree of a man wouldn’t budge.

They made it into the bathroom with Stiles only almost face planting on the floor twice.

Before he could psyche himself out he dropped the towel and quickly eased himself into the water, the foamy bubbles covering his privates from view.

Derek seemed shocked by that action and turned his face away in presumed embarrassment. “Sorry…” he muttered to the wall.

“I saw your dick yesterday, it’s only fair.” Stiles tried to jokingly defuse the situation. “Not like I was looking or anything!” His face heated again. “I’m sorry, I… Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” Derek faced him again and hesitated. “Do you need help?”

“No I… think I’ll be fine, thanks.”

He probably did need some help, but at this point he just wanted to give his face time to cool down or he felt he might explode.

The man nodded and left the room, closing the door behind him. “Just call when you’re done.”

“Will do.”

After the door closed Stiles let out a huge sigh and let himself sink deeper into the tub, wetting his hair, his knees poking out from beneath the bubbles.

It was still midmorning, but the sun was beginning to rise over the horizon, its first rays shining through the small textured window. The steam rising from the bath shimmered in the light and reminded him of the steam of the werewolves’ breathing.

Two.

There were at least two, most likely more.

Derek.

But who was the other one?

It would be pretty crucial to find out, lest there be other bodies found in the woods.

‘…transferred by blood and bite…’ is what the book had read.

‘Blood’ like infection or ‘blood’ like ‘bloodline’? The ‘bite’ part was pretty self-explanatory.

Good thing there was a werewolf expert in the next room.

“Hey, Derek?”

“Yes?”

Stiles could hear a chair creaking along the floor, like the man had stood up suddenly.

“How did you become… like that?”

A beat before an answer came: “I was born like this. All my family are werewolves.”

Stiles thought for a second, thoughts running through his head he scrubbed at his skin with a soft sponge.

“Your uncle too?”

A grunt of agreement.

“Was that him yesterday? Trying to kill me?”

“No, that was someone else. Someone I don’t know, his scent was unfamiliar.”

“Isn’t there like a territory thing with wolves?”

Another grunt Stiles interpreted as ‘yes’.

“So why was he here then?”

“He looked young, not in control. It was the full moon.”

“That’s what makes you guys go kind of crazy right?”

“The full moon has an effect on everyone, it’s just much more intense for us. You’ve heard of the lunar effect, right?”

“Going ‘lunatic’ but intensified, huh.”

“Essentially.”

Stiles leaned backwards into the water again and scrubbed at his scalp with his fingers, letting the information he’d been given sink in for a while. The feeling of getting the grime and sweat and smeared blood off of him after hours of it caking and drying on his skin was heavenly.

“So, is it just the ‘turning into a giant wolf’ thing or is there something else? Like, do you have to eat people to live or…?”

Derek interrupted him, exasperated: “I’m not a fucking vampire, Stiles.”

Stiles’ heart skipped a beat at his tone. Guess he was a bit scared after all.

“Sorry…”

He could hear a sigh from the other room.

“No it’s fine.”

A moment of silence, where Stiles was afraid to speak up again. Derek, probably sensing he’d scared the other into silence spoke: “I can also hear and smell things from far away, I can heal as you’ve seen, my reflexes are fast, and I’m stronger than humans are. There are several things that are different.”

 “How well do you hear?” Stiles quietly whispered to test his hearing out of curiosity.

“Much better than that.” Derek laughed. “I can hear your heartbeat.”

Of course Stiles’ heart had to start beating faster at that.

“That’s kind of an invasion of privacy…” his face flushed and he hurried to rinse the soapsuds out of his hair, eager to get out. Until he remembered he would need help getting out of the tub.

_Fuck._

“Can’t really turn off my hearing.” the man commented sarcastically.

“I’m uh, ready now.” Stiles was keen on changing the subject.

The door opened slowly and Derek stepped inside, his eyes shifting uncomfortably around the room.

_So how do we do this…_

“If you slide that stool here and lend me an arm I can get out without falling. Probably.” Stiles pointed to the space next to the tub and Derek complied with his request. The wooden stool in place and a clean towel laid on top of it Derek turned to face away and offered his right arm for Stiles to grab.

Which he promptly did, not wanting to drag it out, his wet fingers slippery but he managed to shakily lift to his feet, he leaned his left knee on the side of the tub to avoid putting pressure on the ankle while he stepped on the cold floor. He sat down as soon as he felt like he wouldn’t fall over attempting it and swiftly covered himself with the towel.

“Okay.”

Derek turned around at the prompting and laid a towel over the boy’s head. “Here.” He started gently massaging the water out of his hair and when he deemed it dry enough he draped the towel over his shoulders.

Stiles didn’t know how to respond to that. He hadn’t had his hair dried for him like that since his mother used to do it when he was a child. It took his breath away. But not in a bad way.

It seemed Derek had noticed that too, as he’d scrubbed a little longer than probably necessary.

Stiles dried off his arms and legs with the towel Derek had used as the man announced he was going to get clean clothes for him and went off before coming back with a clean and pressed servant’s uniform and retreated into the bedroom as Stiles dressed himself.

Getting the bandage on was a bit of a struggle, Derek kneeling on the wet floor and Stiles wincing in pain as the wrapping was tightened as the doctor had ordered.

“Was that you? The first time?” Stiles asked gently.

Derek nodded stiffly.

“Why did you chase us?”

“I… I was out of control that night… After my family… “ He shook his head in shame. “The full moon that night took over me, I wasn’t in my right mind.”

“But you didn’t kill me. I was right in front of you.”

“I couldn’t.”

“Why?”

Derek glanced pointedly up at Stiles, willing him to understand something Stiles’ mind wasn’t ready to accept, so he just took the look as a sign to not press the matter further.

After the ankle was wrapped and he was dressed Derek offered his arm once more, and led Stiles back to the bed.

“Is this my punishment for snooping around? Being bedbound.” he jested as he shifted back against the pillows.

Derek ignored the comment and made to leave.

“Hey, uh, your uncle isn’t going to come kill me now that I know your secret, is he?”

“Let’s hope he doesn’t know that you know.” he answered grimly, but at the sight of Stiles’ frown he added: “I’ll hear if he does.” he reassured the boy. “I’ll be back to check on you.” he said as he closed the door behind him.

Stiles was relieved the ‘incident’ hadn’t come up, but he was sure it would be brought up at some point and dreaded it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no love confessions yet but soon my children, soon.


	12. Caveman

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *DJ Khaled voice* "Another one."

Anna had stopped by the room Stiles was staying in a few moments after Derek left, to gather laundry, several books hidden beneath linens in the wicker basket she carried. Stiles thanked her for saving him from death by boredom and she wished him well before leaving. He had hoped she could stay and chat but she had a lot to get done. Not surprising since he was out of commission for the time being and the girls had to pick up his slack. A fact he felt horrible about while he lay in bed with no other stimuli than the printed words on the pages in front of him.

Indeed it was a fairly uneventful day and Stiles itched to get out of the bed and do something, anything, but trying to get to the bathroom by himself – jumping on one leg, holding onto anything stable within reach – proved to be the most challenging thing he could manage at the moment. Maybe if he was carried downstairs he could sit on a stool and scrub linens and polish silverware, but the girls wouldn’t be able to bear his weight and he wasn’t about to ask _him_.

The man was a fucking werewolf, yet the first thing that came to mind when Stiles thought of him was that kiss he’d stolen.

And speak of the devil…

A knock came at the door and he called for whoever it was to enter as he laid his book down on the bed next to him.

Derek stepped inside carrying Stiles’ dinner on a silver tray. He laid it on the boy’s lap and pulled a chair next to the bed and sat down.

Stiles started eating, waiting for the man to speak first.

“You probably still have more questions.” he prompted.

“I do.” Stiles spoke with his mouth full. After swallowing he continued: “Are there other things out there? Like vampires, witches?”

Derek looked a bit startled by the question. “No, not that I know of.”

“Okay, that’s good. Werewolves are plenty to deal with.”

“We’re not that bad.” there was a humorous tone in the man’s voice.

“There is a rogue wolf running around in the woods. He almost killed me. Probably killed James and Henry.”

“He might have. I didn’t have a chance to scent the bodies, so I can’t say if he was involved or not.”

“Well, given the circumstantial evidence we have, I think it’s pretty safe to say that was probably his doing.”

Derek just grunted.

Stiles hid his amusement by shoving a chunk of beef in his mouth.

“So… you said before that you think you know who set the fire?”

A grunt.

“Mind elaborating on that?” he chuckled. “I’m just trying to work all this out in my head.”

A deep sigh. “I think it was my uh… girlfriend. She…”

“Ex I hope.” Stiles interrupted him.

“I haven’t talked to her since and she poisoned me, so yes, ex.”

“Poisoned?!” The fork clattered onto the tray.

“If you’d let me talk…”

“Sorry, I’ll shut up now.” He squeezed his lips together tightly and looked expectantly at Derek.

“She was staying the night, we’d had dinner with my family.” The memory was obviously painful, judging from the way his forehead scrunched up. “She put a barrier of mountain ash to trap us in our rooms as we slept and set the fires with gasoline that had wolfsbane mixed into it. There probably was wolfsbane mixed into the wine she brought too, to weaken us, hinder our abilities… I only got out after the barrier was broken when the house started to collapse. I… I listened as my family choked to death in their beds.” Images seemed to be flashing behind his eyes as he spoke, staring at the wall behind the other.

Stiles was stunned to silence. He could remember the bestiary had talked about the effects of mountain ash and wolfsbane on werewolves. The woman had obviously targeted them specifically for being werewolves, or at least known what they were, set to kill them all. The way Derek’s burns had taken a day to heal when the bullet wound closed almost immediately… That must have been the wolfsbane still in his system.

“She said she loved me. Obviously that was a lie.” Derek chuckled morosely.

“I’m sorry…”

“It’s not your fault.”

“Still.”

They sat in silence for a while, Stiles finishing his food and Derek lifting the tray off of his thighs and onto the bedside table.

“So now that we’ve talked about me…” Derek shifted in his seat, leaning more forward.

Stiles knew what was coming next, and he was not having it, his heart started to beat faster, his thoughts becoming mush. He let out an uncomfortable laugh.

“You know I… You should just ignore what happened… what I did before… I wasn’t… I don’t know what I…” Stiles tried to desperately fix the situation but he kept stumbling over his words, not able to form a proper sentence in his head, his hands flailing around uselessly trying to visualize a sentence he hadn’t yet formed.

“What if I don’t want to ignore it?” Derek’s voice was calm and low as he stood and sat down on the side of the bed next to Stiles.

Stiles just gaped like a goldfish, frozen in place, his mind completely blank.

“What…?” he finally managed.

Derek closed the distance between them and reached out for Stiles’ still raised arms, wrapping his warm hands around the wrists so gently that all the boy would have to do is tug and he’d be free.

“I’m not ignoring it, Stiles.” he stated firmly, leaning down to the other’s eyelevel, but leaving room for him to breathe and the route to the door clear.

“Then a fitting punishment of your cho…”

Lips pressed softly on his cut him off. His eyes widened in shock, heart pounding in his chest. Derek pulled away slowly, letting go of Stiles’ hands, which flopped lifelessly to the bed, not pulling back but not pushing forward, their breaths mingling between them.

It took a few seconds for Stiles’ brain to start working again after the short circuit the act caused. “You should be really clear about what you mean, I don’t want my brain to just run with the idea that I’m getting from this, but I’m probably reading too much into this and I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable and make you think that I’m weird and gross and…”

“Stiles.” Derek raised his voice a bit, but his face was soft, almost smiling.

“I’d run away if I could.”

“I’m aware”

“So you know it’s unfair to do this right now. Asshole.” he said, though there was no heat behind his words.

The man just leaned in and kissed him again, this time longer, moving his lips against Stiles’ slightly. Stiles closed his eyes and gave into the short kiss. After Derek pulled away, he didn’t dare open his eyes, lowering his face toward his chest, his hair brushing against the man’s chin.

“Please use your words, you caveman.” his voice was desperate.

“I like you, Stiles.” came a gruff reply, like the man struggled to get the words out.

“Oh, fuck me…” he breathed out in disbelief. He couldn’t wrap his head around what was happening.

“Think it’s a bit early for that.”

Stiles guffawed, throwing his head back, finally facing the man in front of him. They were both smiling, Derek’s a slight upturn at the corner of his mouth, Stiles’ wide, his teeth showing.

“I can’t fucking believe you, god!”

He raised his hands and did what he’d wanted to do for weeks; he cupped the man’s jaw, leaned forward and kissed him passionately.

Derek leaned down to let Stiles support himself against the pillows, his left hand going to the younger’s slim waist, Stiles’ hands lowering to his shoulders. Their tongues sweeping across lips, lips sucked on gently, the pace calm, the kiss thorough, their breaths ghosting over each other’s faces.

The kiss a relief for the both of them.

Stiles felt himself melting under the gentle touches, the stress and uncertainty flowing out of his loosening muscles. He felt the vibration of a moan in his throat but couldn’t hear it.

The kiss slowed to a stop and Derek pulled away with a final peck on his lips.

“Tell me I’m not dreaming.” Stiles practically begged before slowly opening his eyes.

Derek let out an amused breath before answering. “It’s not a dream.”

“Fucking hell.” Stiles leaned back.

“You really cuss a lot don’t you?”

That received another burst of laughter from Stiles.

“Yeah, guess I do. Sorry.”

“No it’s… it’s fine. It’s kind of…” he trailed off, scratching the back of his head embarrassedly.

Stiles looked at him expectantly, a slight smile on his face. “Use your words, Derek” he reminded.

“Cute.”

The younger’s brows shot up. “Cute?” he repeated. “Are you mocking me? Or is that a compliment?” his smirk smug.

“Shut up, Stiles.” Derek went to turn away, hiding his face. Stiles thought he might be blushing.

“I think you’re cute too.”

That caught the other off guard. He whipped his head back towards Stiles, absolute confusion and astonishment displayed clearly on his face, his brows furrowing.

Stiles snorted and let out a loud laugh.

“Okay, I’ll shut up. Sorry.”

“No, it’s…fine.”

“So uh. What do we do now?”

Derek’s face fell into confusion again and his gaze flicked to the bed they were sitting on before shifting back to Stiles’ face.

“I mean, does this change anything? Are we still just gonna have meals together when you’re free. A kiss goodbye? Something? Are we like dating now or? Do we tell people? No we can’t tell people-? NO we can’t tell people what am I thinking…?” Stiles started rambling again.

“Let’s just… Do what feels comfortable?”

“Yeah, good strategy. Take it slow.” Stiles nodded a bit too furiously.

His gaze shifted to his lap, flicking over to Derek’s thigh just a couple inches from his own. And he reached out and touched it, laid his palm over the muscle, the soft fabric warm against his palm.

Just because he could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally they talk about their feelings! Only took 12 chapters lol. I didn't really plan on making this so slow but I didn't want to rush the lovebirds into anything they're not ready for.
> 
> Until next chapter!


	13. Shooting Lessons

“Oh, thank fuck.” Stiles breathed out in relief when he was handed the wooden crutches.

“You better be thankful, I had to sneak these here. Scott didn’t want you moving around yet, and that watchdog of yours is always within sniffing distance…” Erica shook her head, amused, a smile playing at her lips.

“Watchdog?”

“Young Master Derek.” She wiggled her brows at him. “It’s like you have him on a leash."

Stiles’ own brows shot up in surprise. Though he really shouldn’t be surprised, Derek really had been acting like a lonely lapdog, always coming to keep Stiles company during mealtimes and often came up with excuses to show up.

Once Derek had just shown up emptyhanded and practically melted into the armchair that he had set up by the bed.

“My eyes hurt from reading too much and my head hurts from being near Peter.” he’d complained when Stiles had asked what was wrong. When the boy had picked up a bookmark to put the book he was reading down Derek had stopped him and just told him to keep reading, so Stiles did. Aloud. Even from the corner of his eye Stiles could see the twitch of a smile and the loosening muscles of the man’s neck.

After the chapter was over Derek thanked him with a slight smile and left to continue working.

The last two days really had been odd and though it was nice to be off his feet once in a while this was just excessive. That’s why he’d asked Erica to bring him the crutches so he could finally get out of that damn room. His ankle was feeling a bit better already and the swelling had gone down some, but he still couldn’t put much weight on it.

Erica helped him up after he’d tied his shoes on and offered the crutches for him.

The first few steps were a bit shaky but he didn’t mind, he was so excited to get to the hallway for the first time in days.

And of course, as expected, the watchdog showed up, walking towards them from the bend of the hallway, where Stiles figured he must have been listening in.

“Hey, pup!” Stiles greeted him brightly, shocking the man to the point of freezing in place. Only after blurting the word out, did Stiles think it might be kind of offensive to a werewolf to be called a ‘pup’.

The little smirk and amused huff of a breath that Derek gave him eased his worries before he could panic and he smiled back.

“Where are you going?”

“Anywhere.” Stiles chuckled. “I can’t stand being in that room another second.” he said as he continued forward, determined.

Erica eyed the young Master warily from the side, but the man’s whole attention was on Stiles. She thought it would be best to get out of there before she could be scolded for providing Stiles with the crutches.

“Erica, where are you going?” Stiles called after her.

“I still have a lot to do. See you later!”

Stiles huffed out a breath.

Derek glanced at her retreating form before focusing back on the boy.

“Well, if you don’t have other plans, how about that lesson I promised?”

Immediately Stiles perked up, his eyes shining with excitement.

He struggled on the stairs but was adamant about doing it himself when Derek offered to help. When he finally made it the man let out a breath of relief and guided him to sit down in the parlor while he went to get their coats, finding the revolver still in Stiles’ pocket. He grabbed more bullets to practise with and went down to where the boy was waiting.

Stiles shrugged the coat on as he sat but had to stand and let Derek button it for him since he couldn’t do it himself. Part of him felt pathetic and useless, the other relished in the attention and care he was given.

They hadn’t really talked too much about their relationship, it was still early, but Stiles couldn’t help wanting to kiss and touch the other every time they were together. He ached for any contact, even if it was just a touch of their hands, or a small peck as Derek was leaving the room. But he wanted more. Wanted to be enveloped in him.

Derek straightened up when he finished buttoning up Stiles coat and picked up a scarf from where he’d laid his own coat on a chair. He wrapped it around the boy’s neck gently.

It took a few seconds for Stiles to recognize it, but when he did, he gasped. “Where did you find this?”

Derek averted his gaze, scratching the back of his head. “I woke up with it in my bed after that night I lost control… Smells like you so I thought it was yours.” he shrugged.

“So you took it that night? I was wondering where it went…”

“My wolf did, I don’t really have much memories from then.”

“That’s… sweet of you – of him.” he corrected himself and laughed.

After Derek got his own winter gear on they headed out into the afternoon sun. The weather was warmer than a few weeks prior. The coldest month of the year now over and the weather headed for spring, though the snow was still going to be stubbornly on the ground for several months.

Derek led them to the stables and they found Boyd in the saddle room.

“How can I help you, Master Derek?”

“Could you prepare Athena for riding? We’ll be heading out.”

“Of course, Master.”

Derek and Stiles went to wait outside.

“How far are we going?”

“Far enough that the gunshots don’t spook the other horses.”

“But Athena…?”

“She’s been trained. Gunshots don’t scare her.”

“Oh, okay. Good. That’s good. Great.”

Derek could tell Stiles was nervous. “Sorry. I can walk if it’s uncomfortable for you to ride with me. She’s the only one that I trust to not freak out out there.”

Stiles quickly went to explain himself, waving his arms around: “Oh, no, it’s not that! I just – the one time I’ve ridden a horse it bucked me off and I slammed to the ground pretty hard. Haven’t ridden one since.” he laughed uncomfortably.

Derek frowned. “Are you okay?”

“It happened when I was, like, ten. I’m fine.”

“Well, Athena is the best behaved horse we have, she won’t buck.”

Just then Boyd led Athena out of the stable and stopped her in front of them. She was a tall beauty, her mane long and dark. Boyd patted her forehead.

“There’s no way, I’m getting up there with this ankle.” Stiles announced.

“Don’t worry. Here.”

Stiles was directed to stand by the right side and put his right – good – foot on the pedal, holding onto the saddle with his weight. Derek stood behind him and on the count of three pushed from his bottom to get him up.

Stiles blushed at the tingling the touch of his hands left behind as he scooted forward and untangled his right foot from the pedal to let Derek pull himself up and settle on the saddle behind him, his front flush against Stiles’ back. If he leaned back he could lay his head on the man’s shoulder. It was a tempting thought but he controlled himself in front of Boyd, who handed the reins over to Derek. The man gruffly thanked him, and then they were off, on the road leading toward the unoccupied fields.

Stiles was holding onto the edge of the saddle as they were lightly jostled by Athena’s rhythmic steps. His back was constantly rubbing against the other’s front and Derek’s arms were almost wrapped around him holding onto the reins.

Stiles was enveloped.

His heart beat fast and he had to consciously take deep breaths now and then or else he felt lightheaded. They were so close, but not close enough.

Once they were out of earshot Derek spoke: “What’s wrong?”

The question startled Stiles.

“I – Uh, I…”

“Are you nervous?”

_Yes._

“Kind of…”

“I should walk-“Derek pulled on the reins and Athena immediately obeyed and stopped.

“I feel like I’ll fall!” Stiles blurted out without thinking. It wasn’t exactly a lie – he did feel uncomfortable about riding a horse – but the main reason he said it was to keep Derek from detaching himself from him.

“Here.” The man switched the reins to his right hand and wrapped his left around Stiles’ middle, pulling him even closer.

For a second Stiles’ heartbeat picked up even more but as Derek tapped his heels against Athena’s sides and they were moving again he felt a calmness wash over him. He could feel Derek’s chest falling and rising against his back and matched his own breathing with his.

As they went past the ruins the grip around him tightened just slightly. He took his hands off of the saddle and took hold of the arm, entrusting himself fully in Derek’s care. He felt Derek take a short breath and then the man’s forehead was pressing against jaw, his nose against Stiles’ neck and he took a deep breath before lifting his head away.

They continued on, passing the ruins and another patch of forest before coming to the open fields of the Hale farm. The road continued on at a light slope down between large fields and branched off to the left and right, leading to the fenced off gracing grounds and stables for cattle on the right and to storage buildings and the forest beyond them on the left, which is where they headed.

Derek helped Stiles down after they stopped in front of the house the farmers stayed in during the farming season. Now it stood empty, the lands frozen deep and the chairs set up on the porch for a morning cigarette covered in a layer of snow.

“Here.” Derek offered his arm to Stiles and led him up the steps and cleaned off a chair for him to sit on. The chair was set facing the fields and the road beyond the fence that surrounded the house. Derek left him there for a minute as he went off to the right to tie Athena’s reins to a fencepost further away where they could keep an eye on her and she was not in the line of fire.

He returned and pulled Stiles’ revolver out of his pocket where he had stored it – unloaded with the safety on – and a box of ammo. He laid them on the railing in front of the boy and pulled out a chair for himself, settling down next to him.

“Show me.”

Stiles bit his lip and nodded, taking off his gloves and setting them down on the railing before picking up the gun. He opened the box and proceeded to load the revolver like his father had shown him, glancing to his right occasionally to see Derek nodding to him encouragingly.

“Good. Now, see that fencepost there?” He pointed ahead of them at what was apparently frequently used as target practice, the post filled with bullet holes, the wood splintering. It was maybe thirty feet away.

“I see that I’m not going to hit it.”

“You will. Here.” He showed Stiles the proper way to aim and after he deemed it good enough told him to take the safety off and try.

Stiles did as he was told and aimed, braced for the kickback, and pulled the trigger. A loud bang echoed in the forest around them. Athena barely even reacted to the sound, busy digging around in the snow.

A miss.

“See? Told you.” He went to put the gun down before Derek stopped him and pushed his arm back up into position.

“That’s just the first shot, don’t give up yet.”

Stiles huffed out an annoyed breath but aimed again.

“The first one went too much to the left and too high, adjust your aim.” Derek advised.

“I didn’t even see where the bullet went, how did you-?“Stiles was about to ask, turning to look at the other, but the realization came to him before he could finish: “Werewolf, right…” He went to aim again before another question popped into his head: “Are your ears okay? Isn’t your hearing sensitive?” And again as he turned to look at Derek the answer was there, no words needed; Derek with his fingers in his ears looking at him innocently like nothing was amiss.

Stiles could barely hold back from bursting into laughter, snorting loudly before covering his mouth with his left hand.

“What?” he frowned and lowered his hands.

“No it’s – It’s nothing.” Stiles calmed himself with a deep breath and concentrated on shooting again.

And again.

And again.

Missing every time despite getting correction each time.”

“Goddammit!” he put the now empty revolver on the railing and folded his arms.

Derek picked it up and loaded another round of bullets in.

“Does it even work properly? It’s been unused for years.”

Derek said nothing as he aimed and fired twice. Both hit the post in the center, one above the other about an inch away.

Stiles just gaped at him.

“And where did you learn to shoot?”

Derek handed the gun to him. “A farmhand named Jason. He works here every summer.” He guided Stiles’ hands into position again as he continued: “I used to run around the fields as a kid, so to keep me in check he sat me down here and taught me to shoot.”

Stiles fired and missed.

“It’s getting closer. Keep trying.”

“You’re a patient man, huh?”

“Depends on the situation.” he chuckled. “Back then I couldn’t sit still at all, always running around with Laura, and then by myself. Then not at all.” the tone of his voice turned darker toward the end and it made Stiles lower the gun.

“What happened?”

“Kids thought I was weird. They were probably afraid of me because of the rumors.”

“Rumors?”

“That there are ‘monsters’ living around here. Guess they decided I was one. They were right, but it’s not the nicest thing to be called when you’re just a child. After that I was by myself a lot.”

“Kids are evil.” Stiles tried another shot. It just grazed the side.

“So is Peter. Having him around when I grew up didn’t help matters.”

“Damn him to hell.”

Stiles’ expression soured and as he aimed this time he imagined shooting a certain monster of a man in the head. Hopefully as practice for the future.

“Good!” Derek praised him.

The bullet hit perfectly in the middle of the post.

"Finally! What's my price?" he grinned.

Derek smirked as he took the gun from his hand and leaned down to press a gentle kiss on his lips. Stiles laughed and went in for another one, grasping Derek's cheeks in his freezing hands, letting the excitement warm him from inside out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BAMF!Stiles anyone?


	14. Flicker

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uuuugh I'm sorry for being away for so long...  
> But! here I am!

“Come back immediately. We must speak of this face to face.”

“Yes, Master Hale.”

Peter put the phone back in its place, an exasperated moue on his face. He glanced at the clock and surmised he’d have at least an hour before Mr. Stilinski would reach the farm on his way back from the city. He settled down in the armchair he’d been sitting in before the phone rang and picked the book he’d placed face down on the small table next to him.

He didn’t read much before he heard the front door open and what he knew were his nephew’s steps accompanied by the sound wood rhythmically hitting the floor.

That Stilinski boy.

Peter never really cared for him – he wasn’t too fond of children in general – but because he was the son of a respected employee he had allowed the droll boy to stay and work even after turning eighteen. He’d been a rascal of a child, but Peter was rather proud of himself for training him into the taciturn maid he now was.

Or had been.

The boy was starting to cause trouble again, getting involved with his nephew way too much for Peter’s liking. He’d told Derek as much. It wasn’t proper to have such close relationships with the servants.

And here they come from where-ever they had been for several hours. Out somewhere doing god-knows-what, only returning now that the sun had gone down. Peter shivered. It was abominable to think such vermin had caught the naïve eye of his dear nephew. Would the boy ever learn?

He stood up and listened as the footsteps stopped for a moment, and then separated, footsteps going up the stairs, thumping coming towards the basement stairs at the end of the hallway.

He confronted Stiles in the hallway as he went past the sitting room door.

Peter heard the boy’s heart start beating faster as he realized who was standing in front of him, the poor thing’s eyes wide before he moved his gaze to the floor. Peter felt almost proud.

He leaned close slowly, bringing his face to the side of Stiles’ neck. The boy’s heart beat even faster, the sound music to his ears.

He took in a deliberate breath, smelling the scent of Derek lingering on Stiles’ clothes.

“You’re not getting too close to my nephew, are you?” he questioned, glancing at the boy’s face out the corner of his eyes without pulling away, one eyebrow raising slightly.

He heard Derek’s footsteps cease.

The boy swallowed before answering in a thin voice: “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Master Hale.”

The answer had Peter pulling away.

“Don’t think me a fool, boy.” he growled out before smirking and continuing: “You know I’m not that unperceptive.” He tapped at the side of his nose. “I can _smell_ him on you.”

“We’re not doing anything wrong.” Stiles’ voice steady, his eyes boldly meeting the other’s gaze. He shocked Peter with his sudden temerity.

Anger burned at the back of Peter’s eyes. “You forget your place, maid!” he practically spat in the boy’s face.

The only thing that kept Peter from slamming the boy against a wall was the quiet but firm voice of his nephew from upstairs.

“Don’t” it commanded, the threat of violence clear in its tone.

Peter needed Derek for a while still, and having the boy hate him would be bad for business, so he decided against harming his beloved toys.

For now.

He straightened up and put on a fake smile. “Have a good night.” he told him before slipping past him toward the front hall. He had more important matters to deal with.

 

Noah Stilinski came down the snowy road by horse, his cheeks red from the cold and hair messy. He very much looked like he had left in a hurry. Peter met him in a spot where the woods seemed to envelop the road. In a spot no one could see what would soon ensue.

“Master Hale, what are you doing here?” the man questioned, lowering himself to the ground.

“I thought it was better we speak in private. It is such a delicate matter.”

“Oh, yes. Of course.”

“So, tell me. What is it you found out?” they walked side by side to the edge of the wood away from the center of the road.

“I met with the arms dealer Argent today and he told me of his sister, Kate, who was a little… deranged. She’d spoken of monsters living around here and about her plan to kill them with fire.” Stilinski explained, “Several people I spoke to said they’d seen Kate Argent in the presence of the young Master Derek. They were rumoured to be in a relationship.”

“It’s no rumour, it’s true. She visited the farm on several occasions.”

“She was probably looking for evidence for her insane theories. Guess she thought she found it and…”

“Killed them.” Peter finished his sentence.

“We have to find her. We need to tell the young Master.” he went to grab the reins of the horse when Peter stopped him, a firm grip on his arm.

“You don’t believe there are monsters living here?” Peter asked for his own amusement.

And amusement he got.

As Mr. Stilinski was just about to open his mouth to say no Peter flashed his red glowing eyes at the man. The expression on his face was priceless, it almost made the werewolf laugh.

“It’s too bad. You were good at your job.” Peter used his other hand to grip his neck tightly, only letting a little air pass through to his lungs. “Too good it seems.”

Peter pulled him off his feet and started dragging the man through the snow into the dark woods.

“Can’t leave a mess on the road.” he gleefully explained.

The man’s heart was beating deafeningly loud, his breath wheezing. He felt like his neck could break an second. The only source of light was the lamp still attached to the saddle on his horse as he was dragged further and further into the forest, his kicking and squirming completely useless against the inhumanely strong grip around his neck.

The flicker of light between the trees was the last thing he saw before total darkness enveloped them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So.....
> 
> This was a bit different.
> 
> And short but! That's why this is a double upload ;)


	15. Scent

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> double double

Stiles buried his face in his hands after he finally sat down on his bed. He should’ve just gone up to the room he’d been staying in instead of insisting on going back to his own bed. He should’ve let Derek walk him down. Then he wouldn’t have been confronted by Peter. Not alone at least.

“Fuck…”

_So Peter knows._

_Of course he knows._

How he had made it out of that situation alive was a mystery to him. Though he’d gotten out of worse with minor injuries. Maybe he was lucky, at least he hoped he was with the direction his life was heading in.

Stiles struggled in the bath and winced when wrapping up his ankle again.

When he was done he sat on his bed again, this time choosing to distract himself from the fear of death by reading.

Another type of distraction came before he even finished the page.

Scott walked in the door, his smile lit up when he noticed his friend. “Stiles, hey! Finally back. Was scared he’d kidnapped you or something.” he laughed as he sat down next to Stiles.

“How do- …”

“How do I know? Boyd told me.”

“Of course he did.”

“Still telling yourself you’re just friends?”

“We are friends.” Stiles told him matter-of-factly.

“You’re not fooling me Stiles. You kissed him, you made up and now he’s taking you out on a horse? That’s not something friends do.”

“You wouldn’t take me out on a horse?” Stiles scrunched up his lips in an exaggerated frown.

Scott rolled his eyes. “Not on a single horse! And definitely not with my arms wrapped around you like that.”

Stiles blushed at the memory of Derek’s strong arm holding him against his broad chest.

“I don’t wanna talk about this.” Stiles went to reach for the crutches leaning against the bed but Scott snatched them up first.

“Oh no you don’t.”

“Come on, Scott…” Stiles pleaded.

Scott placed the crutches down, this time on the other side away from Stiles.

“Look, I don’t want to force you to tell me if you don’t want to. I just don’t want you to hide from the truth.”

“Which is?”

“That you’re in love with Derek.” Scott said it so casually it took Stiles by surprise.

“I- I’m not… _In love_ with Derek.” he knew it was a lie the second the statement passed his lips.

“Well, it very much looks like he’s in love with you.”

Stiles buried his burning face in his hands, leaning down to further hide between his knees. “Don’t say that so casually you weirdo.” he muttered.

Scott just laughed. “It’s not that serious. Just get with him already. Save yourself and him from the awkward tiptoeing.”

“You speak like you’ve any experience.” Stiles peeked at him and grinned.

“Guess I’m a natural then.” Scott grinned back. “Just talk to him. Go with your gut.” he encouraged his friend.

Stiles sighed deeply. “I hate to admit it but I think you’re right…”

“I’m right all the time!”

Both of them laughed and Stiles straightened up finally.

“Where did you go anyway? We heard gunshots.” Scott asked.

“He taught me to shoot, since I sucked that time.”

“Did you hit the target even once?” Scott poked fun at him and they chuckled.

“He…” Stiles’ smile turned abashed, “He kissed me when I did.”

Scott sighed and fell on his back on the bed. “Man… I want to be in love too. You’re making me jealous.”

“Shut up.” Stiles lay down next to him, laughing.

They lied there for a few seconds in silence before Stiles spoke up.

“You stink.”

“Like horse shit?”

“Yeah, get the fuck off of my bed.” Stiles pushed at the laughing boy until he rolled onto his side and got up.

 

Stiles dragged himself up to the kitchen the next morning for breakfast before anyone could start doting on him again. He’d had enough of that.

He struggled around using only one crutch as he brought a bowl of porridge to the table for himself. He could now put some weight on his left foot but not without wincing.

Erica watched him hop around, amused. Liam and Mason were more polite and focused on spooning the porridge into their mouths.

Josephine assigned him to polish silverware with Liam. They got to the formal dining room where they laid the baskets of forks, knives and spoons they were carrying – Liam was carrying, Stiles hobbling next to him – on the table and got to work.

They worked in silence for a while before Stiles asked Liam how he was doing.

Liam grimaced. “Okay, I guess. Me and Mason have been practically imprisoned in the laundry room.”

Stiles laughed. “Yeah, the stench of vinegar mixed with lavender isn’t the most pleasant thing.”

“It’s horrible. I feel like throwing up most of the time…”

“At least your hands seem fine, mine would dry up and the skin would crack.”

“Good thing you were chosen as a pet instead then.” Liam joked.

Stiles frowned at him. “I got out of the laundry room after Josie trusted me to not break things in the house, not because I was ´chosen´”

“Josephine thinks I’m too clumsy?” he sounded offended.

“Or just unreliable. You’re new, she probably thinks you might steal something.”

Liam scoffed at that. “I’m not a thief.”

“Just hang in there. Oh! And say hi to my mom. Her name is Claudia, you’ve probably seen her there.”

“That’s your mom?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, I’m sorry…”

“Why?”

“She isn’t doing too well, right? I’ve had to introduce myself to her several times every day because she forgets who I am.”

Stiles sucked on his bottom lip before speaking. “Yeah… She’s been like that for a while.” He cleared his throat. “Anyway. I’ll put in a good word about you to Josie, maybe she’ll let you out of the dungeon more often.”

“Thanks.”

 

It took them almost the whole day to polish the silverware, only taking a short lunch break and chatting all the while. Liam told Stiles all about the previous manor he was a servant in, the Martins. Stiles especially enjoyed hearing about the rumours the staff would spread about Lydia.

Josephine stopped them when they came into the kitchen for dinner.

“Stiles, would you mind taking the Young Master his food? He’s in the burgundy sitting room working.” She spoke while arranging the meal onto a serving tray. “Liam, you carry this for him.” She motioned to the tray.

Liam was a little confused but complied and they left together, heading for the stairs.

Stiles’ crutches made quite a bit of noise as he ascended the stairs. He knew Derek would hear him coming and would be waiting for him. The thought made his chest feel a bit tight.

He knocked on the door before opening it and stepping in to the room. The sitting room had been reorganized to make room for a large desk in the middle. The desk was facing the door, Derek sitting in a high back chair behind it. The man shuffled some papers aside and finally looked up to greet Stiles with a light smile, but his eyes flicked to the other boy in the room, who was setting the tray he was carrying down onto the side table beside a suede couch.

“Oh, this is Liam. He just helped me carry…”

Derek’s nostrils flared and rage twisted his brows. He was standing beside Stiles on the other side of the desk in a blink.

“You…” He growled.

“Derek?” Stiles questioned him.

Liam held his hands up in, his eyes wide, confused.

“He’s the wolf.” Derek approached the boy slowly. Stiles couldn’t see his eyes flashing amber but he did see Liam’s eyes doing the same in response.

“What…?” he breathed out.

“Who are you? What do you want with Stiles?”

“He just told you. Liam. I’m a servant.” he motioned to his uniform, getting annoyed now.

“Don’t play stupid!” Derek had him pinned to a wall by the throat in a single move. “You tried to kill him.” He was breathing heavy with rage, his face starting to form wolfish features, sharpening nails digging into Liam’s neck.

“I – I don’t know anything about that!”

“Derek, what are you doing?!” Stiles tried to approach them.

“Stay back.” Derek glanced back at him for a second before focusing back on the werewolf he had in his grip.

“Look, I don’t know what happens when I turn!” Liam stared the man straight in the eye. “I try to go far into the woods so no one would be in danger.” He shifted his gaze to Stiles. “If I did something to you, I’m sorry.”

Derek growled and tightened his grip. “Sorry isn’t good enough. You need control!”

“I’ve tried! I can’t do it.” Liam’s rage was rising to match his aggressor’s. “I didn’t have family to teach me like you did!”

Derek slammed Liam’s head against the wall, the loud thud making Stiles jump.

“That’s not my problem.”

“What are you going to do then?” he challenged the other with his gaze.

“Either you get yourself under control, or I’ll have to put you down.”

“Derek!” Stiles protested but didn’t dare try to approach again.

“Then do it.”

The statement made Derek stop for a second, so Liam repeated himself.

“Do it. Kill me.” he didn’t sound as aggressive anymore, almost a pleading tone in his voice.

Derek took in a deep breath, the exhale sounding almost like a growl, before he let go of the boy’s neck, his features returning to normal.

“I won’t let you hurt him.”

“I don’t want to hurt anybody.”

They looked at each other. A mutual understanding shared between them before Derek finally backed off.

Liam shuffled along the wall to the door and closed it behind him.

Derek huffed out a breath before turning to Stiles, who looked furious.

“What the hell was that about?”

“He hurt you.”

“That doesn’t mean you can just slam someone against a wall for fuck’s sake!”

The man clenched his jaw. “Do you not care that he almost killed you?”

“Of course I care! But like you said before, he didn’t have control. You almost killed me too, don’t you remember?”

An agonized expression flashed on Derek’s face. He was still breathing heavily and didn’t seem able to stand still.

Stiles sighed. “I know you wouldn’t hurt me. I know you. I also know Liam well enough to know he’s not here to murder anyone.” he folded his arms, a hip popping out slightly as he leaned his weight on his right leg.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have… His scent just…” he sighed, trying to gather his thoughts, “I just lost it.”

Stiles chuckled. “A bit hypocritical, huh?”

Derek hid his twitching lips behind his hand, shifting his weight around.

Stiles hopped over to him on his good leg and reached out to pull his hand away from his face.

“Stiles…” he turned his face away.

“What?”

“I… You smell like him. I – I don’t…”

Stiles tried smelling his sleeve but could only make out the light sent of lavender soap.

Derek took hold of his raised arm and pulled him against his chest. He lowered his head to Stiles’ neck where he still smelled like himself and let out a satisfied hum.

Stiles felt himself blush but felt the overwhelming need to wrap his arms around the other, which he promptly did.

“I’m sorry about this.” Derek suddenly shifted his grip and lifted Stiles up. Stiles yelped but wrapped his legs around the other’s waist as he started walking.

“Where are we going?” he asked hurriedly.

“My room.”

“Uhm…” Stiles’ heart started beating faster. He was excited but very nervous.

Derek shut the door behind them before setting Stiles down on the floor beside his bed. He pulled the covers down and then turned back to Stiles.

“Can I take off your shirt?” he asked. He was very eager and seemingly in a great hurry but wouldn’t touch Stiles before he got an answer.

“Only if you take yours off too.” he said, amused.

Derek complied. Stiles could hear threads snapping and buttons clatter to the floor and suddenly he was staring at a bare chest and shoulders. Derek tugged the hem of the shirt out of his trousers before flinging it across the room.

Yet he stood still, waiting for approval to continue.

Stiles gave it by untying the cravat around his neck and dropping it by his feet on the floor.

Derek went for his buttons, quickly and carefully undoing each one, revealing Stiles’ smooth chest. Stiles pushed the shirt off of his shoulders and let Derek pull his sleeves down, freeing his arms, which immediately folded over his chest.

Derek laid his hands on his shoulders, smoothing them down to his elbows. They were standing so close that when he looked down at their torsos his forehead touched Stiles’

“Show me?”

“It’s embarrassing…” he grumbled but lowered his arms to hang at his sides. He felt very vulnerable under the other’s intense gaze. He couldn’t help but compare himself to Derek.

“I feel like a stick.” he commented, masking his insecurities with humour, as usual.

“You’re beautiful.” Derek’s voice was so genuine it made Stiles shiver.

Derek slid his hands down his chest, brushing his thumbs over his nipples, making Stiles gasp lightly, before sliding around his waist, to his back and up as he pulled them against each other. He brought his face down to his neck again, this time letting his nose brush against the skin.

Standing there breathing in Stiles’ scent seemed to calm the wolf down finally. His breathing evened out and he stopped fidgeting.

After a minute Stiles relaxed too. The combination of warmth and the dark room illuminated by a single candle made him feel sleepy.

“Can we lay down?” he asked shyly.

Derek inhaled one last time before helping Stiles get under the duvet and laying down next to him.

Derek pulled Stiles toward him so that they were chest to back. He laid his arm over the smaller waist and maneuvered them so that Stiles’ head rested on his other arm. Only after as much skin as possible was touching between them did he seem satisfied.

“Is this ok? Are you comfortable?”

“Absolutely.” Stiles answered, elated. He could feel Derek’s chest move against his back and a puff of air against his nape as the other chuckled.

“Good.”

The warmth radiating off of him made Stiles melt into unconsciousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a little treat, a little tease


	16. Kiss Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello
> 
> here i am
> 
> with some treats

It was hot.

Too hot.

Sweaty and uncomfortable.

So much so, that it tore Stiles from sweet unconsciousness back to reality.

The reality of Derek wrapped around him, an arm over his waist and a leg hooked over his thighs, the man’s whole front pressed against his back. Skin to skin.

Stiles tried to look around, turning his head as much as he could, but the room was so dim he could barely make out the general shapes of the furniture. The candle mounted on the wall by the door had mostly burned out, the wick struggling to stay upright in a pool of melted wax. There was a clock on the nightstand but he couldn’t see what position the hands were in.

It probably wasn’t too long past midnight, since the wick of the candle was still fighting on, and Stiles felt mostly awake.

He tried to gently move the arm trapping him in place without waking the other, but didn’t get too far before it, and the leg, were lifted off him, freeing him.

“Stiles…?” a groggy voice murmured behind him as he went to sit up.

“It’s too hot.” he complained, keeping his voice at a whisper.

 Derek moved the duvet off of them and propped himself up on his elbow to peek at the clock.

“It’s almost one o’clock.” he raised his voice from a whisper, now speaking at a normal volume.

“Yeah, we slept for a while, huh?” Stiles laughed.

“Are you still sleepy?”

“Not really, no.” he scratched at his arm, uncomfortable being shirtless.

Derek hummed. “Do you want to take a bath?”

“Are you saying I smell?” Stiles jokingly countered, but sniffed at himself anyway. “Oh… I do.”

Derek chuckled. “We both smell, don’t mind it. I just thought maybe you’d want to take one?”

“Yeah, sure. I’ll just run a bath for you and be on my way, then.” He went to get up but was stopped by a hand on his thigh.

“You can bathe here, if you want to.”

“I-“

“We still need to talk about Liam. I could get you a clean shirt to wear?”

The thought was tempting, so very tempting. To relax here in this man’s arms and just talk for hours. But Stiles thought of his usual duties, how at this time he would be doing his usual checks, cleaning up after his mother. He’d asked the other maids to make sure things were done properly while he’d been bedridden, but he wasn’t sure if they would have done it today, since he’d been up and about. Usually it wasn’t too bad, and since she collapsed, she’d been mostly holed up in the laundry room, so even if she had fucked up something, Peter wouldn’t know about it.

Maybe he was just making excuses to not go.

Maybe he really didn’t have anything to worry about.

He looked to Derek next to him. He noticed the man’s eyes glowed in the dark a bit more than a human’s should, now that he knew to look. They looked so hopeful, but so reserved at the same time. Like a child looking at a toy he knew he could never have in the window of an upscale store.

There was an ache in his chest. Having someone look at him like that. Like he was wanted. Like he was somehow valuable, worthy of such attention, even desirable.

It was something he’d never felt before. Didn’t know if he believed it to be real now.

But that look was so raw, so sure.

Stiles gave in.

To his own selfishness and the pleading eyes of the man he now realized he might love.

He bit his lip and nodded. “Alright.”

The light smile he received made his heart beat faster.

“Wait here.” Derek slipped off the bed and went to the bathroom to run water into the bathtub. The noise of the water was loud compared to the silence around them.

“Won’t your uncle hear?”

“No, the walls of his room are made to be soundproof. He won’t hear anything, unless he’s not there.” Derek’s shadow appeared in the doorway.

“Oh, good. Uhm… could you light a candle? I can’t really see anything.”

Derek jumped slightly, having completely forgotten that it would be impossible for a human to see in such darkness. “Of course, sorry.” He went over to the nightstand and lit the candle there.

Stiles sighed in relief. It was still dark, but at least now he could see almost everything. And what he saw, he very much appreciated. Derek was standing by the bed, right next to where stiles was sitting on the edge, wearing only trousers, and with his hair sticking up on one side. He looked adorably dishevelled and not at all like the brooding man most people saw him as. Stiles was the only one able to see him like this. This vulnerable. This real.

To think someone would take advantage of such a man… It made a knot in Stiles’ throat.

They looked at each other for a few long seconds.

“Kiss me?” Stiles voice came out a low whisper, no power behind it, like the question just accidentally slipped out.

Derek’s face twisted, the expression too hard for Stiles to understand in the split second it was visible, before he shut his eyes and received the passionate, yet gentle, kiss. Derek’s hand settled on his nape, supporting his head from the strain of the angle the kiss put him in.

Stiles felt his skin buzzing.

Derek tilted his head and gently licked into Stiles’ mouth, meeting his tongue in a slow dance. Stiles felt awkward, he didn’t really know what to do with his tongue, but tried his best to match whatever the other was doing. He just hoped it felt as good for Derek as it did for him.

Stiles shifted his shaky hands gingerly to the man’s shoulders, feeling the slightly damp, sweaty skin and hard muscle underneath it. He ran his fingers through the short hair at the back of his head, and without really thinking about it, pulled him down, closer to him.

Derek’s other hand wrapped around his waist and his left knee lifted onto the bed as they lowered slowly down to the mattress.

Stiles wasn’t conscious of it, but he let out a breathy moan when his back hit the bed, and Derek moved his hands to hold himself above Stiles and caress his side. The man’s other leg was positioned between Stiles’, his thigh pressing against his groin, which was starting to take interest.

Their mouths never separated. The kiss keeping them both entranced, enchanted. Tongues sliding against each other.

Stiles couldn’t get enough. Through the kiss he tried to convey the feelings he was too much of a coward to say aloud. He never eased off pulling the man toward him, even though there was little space left between them. Their bodies pressed together and if Stiles was in his right mind, he would appreciate that Derek was holding himself up, keeping his bodyweight off of the boy underneath him. Now Stiles was frustrated, wanting more and more.

It just wasn’t close enough.

The moan he let out was closer to a whine.

Derek gently bit at his lip before pulling away. He didn’t go far though, Stiles wouldn’t let him, though he was well strong enough to straighten up even with the other hanging onto him. Their noses brushed together, their heavy breaths mixing.

“The water is spilling over…” Derek informed him in a breathy voice.

Stiles swallowed, still tasting the other in his mouth, before nodding and easing his grip. He let his arms flop onto the bed beside his head.

Derek gave a quick peck on his slightly pouting lips before getting up and going to shut the water off.

Stiles took a deep unsteady breath, trying to calm himself.

_What the fuck is going on?_ He laughed to himself. It all seemed ridiculous. _A hot-ass man just kissed you breathless._

“What?” Derek asked, leaning onto the doorframe. The faint light of the candles he’d lit around the bathroom glowed from behind him.

“I’ve never been kissed like that before.”

Derek’s breath hitched. “And what do think?”

“Not much, to be honest. My brain feels all foggy.” he chuckled.

Derek frowned at that. “I’m sorry I-“

“It was amazing.” Stiles propped himself onto his elbows to stop that train of thought.

The sides of Derek’s mouth twitched sheepishly up in a mixture of happiness and pride. “Bath’s ready.” He nodded towards the bathroom. “You should go first.”

Stiles pushed himself to a sitting position, he pulled his socks off and dropped them onto his discarded shirt on the floor. He glanced up at Derek as he passed him and they stared at each other as he closed the bathroom door.

The floor was wet from the water spilling over, but the water in the bath had been drained so that no more would spill over as Stiles slipped in. There were several candles set up around the bathroom, on the counters and a few on the floor, their flickering light reflecting off the white tiles.

He grabbed himself a towel and some soap before stripping and getting into the tub. It felt amazing to scrub the layer of sweat off of his skin.

He used the fluffy towel to dry himself, making sure to dry his hair properly, before wrapping it around his waist.

A knock came at the door and when he opened it Derek handed folded clothes with a toothbrush on top of the pile to him with a light smirk, before shutting it again.

Stiles thanked him and placed the toothbrush on the counter next to the sink before unfolding the clothes. Derek had given him a generic pair of loose-fitting cotton trousers and a plain long-sleeve shirt Stiles knew for a fact had been tailor-made for Derek, but didn’t comment on it.

He dressed himself and went to brush his teeth.

“Are you decent?” Derek’s voice asked from beyond the door.

“Most say I’m tolerable at best.” he said as he wet the toothbrush. “But I am dressed, yes.”

The door opened and Derek stepped in, only wrapped in a towel.

“Oh, wait let me drain the water.”

“No, it’s okay.” Derek dropped the towel and got into the bath in a few fluent motions, which would be impossible to execute with Stiles’ dangly limbs and poor coordination. Stiles spun around at lighting speed when he saw the towel drop and fixed his eyes onto his own reflection in the mirror. “This’ll save us some time.”

“Great.” he muffled around the toothbrush in his mouth.

 

 

After escaping from the bathroom after finishing brushing his teeth Stiles set to work changing the sheets and gathering up the discarded clothes. He even crawled around on the floor gathering up the buttons that had scattered around and under the bed.

By the time he was finished his feet were freezing cold, so he slipped back under the covers, this time sitting up against the headboard.

Derek wandered into the room a bit later wearing soft, cotton pyjamas, pushing strands of wet hair back. He sat on the edge of the bed and shuffled over next to Stiles.

“So what are we doing about Liam?” he asked casually.

“Well, you could stop threatening to kill him, for a start.” Stiles chuckled.

Derek wasn’t so amused. “I’m serious." he sighed, "I’ve never killed before and I don’t want to start now, but you saw him. He would have killed you. Eaten you alive. He still would. We don’t know what he will do, come next full moon.”

Stiles bit at his lip and lowered his gaze to his hands in his lap. “Can’t we help him, somehow?”

”He’s too dangerous to be around as he is. He’s not in control.”

 “You’re in control, you should teach him.”

Derek sighed. “I don’t know how to teach control.”

“Well, you better figure it out then, because you’re not killing him.” Stiles challenged him.

Derek looked at him then, their eyes locking, his expression was mostly offended but he looked… proud?

Stiles felt his cheeks heating under the gaze, but he wasn’t going to back down on this. It felt good to stand his own ground. He was a stubborn personality, but with Master Hale he could never talk back, wouldn’t dream of it. But here he was, arguing with the second highest authority.

“We have to help him.”

Derek’s jaw clenched. He didn’t say anything for a while, just stared at Stiles, seemingly thinking. He frowned before sighing.

“Fine.”

Stiles grinned.

“But stay away from him.”

Stiles’ smile fell. He frowned defiantly at Derek and said: “I won’t” He felt like he might be testing the limits now but couldn’t help himself.

But Derek gave in. “At least be careful.”

He sounded almost pleading. Hearing that tone coming from someone as powerful as Derek, it hurt.

“I will.” he promised.

Derek leaned over him and pressed their lips together in a short and gentle kiss. When he pulled away and they looked each other in the eye for a brief moment, so close, it felt like something was left hanging over them, something left unsaid.

But neither acknowledged it.

“Sleep, it’s getting late.” Derek told him in a gentle tone.

Stiles hummed and shuffled down, settling on the soft feather pillow under the fresh linens. His body felt like it melted into the mattress. He hadn’t realized he was still so tired, even after sleeping so long.

“Derek?” 

Derek let out a questioning grunt in response as he settled next to him. He didn’t plaster himself against Stiles this time.

“Thank you.”

Derek huffed out an amused breath. “For what?”

But there was no response, as Stiles had already fallen asleep. Though even if he were awake, he himself wouldn’t know the answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this fic is getting way too long lmao
> 
> didn't plan for this at all but I don't want to rush the characters into something i don't think they're ready for...
> 
> hope the story is interesting enough to read even with the 'delayed' smut haha
> 
> (I am having a bit of a hard time irl rn but I'll try to post chapters whenever I can!)

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave me feedback!


End file.
